


Untapped Opportunities

by Serinah



Series: Untapped Opportunities [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Vibrator, Cybersex, Dom Steve Rogers, Fluff and Angst, Gentle Dom, Getting Together, Identity Porn, Inappropriate Erections, Jealous Steve, Jealous Steve Rogers, Kink Negotiation, M/M, Masturbation, Mutual Masturbation, Not as porny as it sounds, Online Relationship, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, POV Steve Rogers, POV Tony Stark, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Restraints, Rope Bondage, SSaC, Self-Bondage, Steve doing acrobatics, Sub Tony Stark, Subdrop, Subspace, Teasing, Tony Needs a Hug, Tony Stark’s Red Thong of Justice, attempted bondage, creative use of wrestling terms, discovering kink, dom taking care of his partner, mostly it's about love, occasional chat format, respectful dom, semi-public play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-07-18 00:08:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 62,231
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16106627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serinah/pseuds/Serinah
Summary: *“Hi, Cap,” he said, and his lips did the involuntary stretching towards his ears, because they didn't seem to be informed of the new ‘we do not act like a besotted school boy around Steve’ policy. In fact, none of the organs below his brain seemed to be on board with it. His heart was thudding, his palms were sweating and it was all Tony could do to stop his feet from moving past the fridge and straight into Steve’s personal space.I wonder what he would think if he knew what kind of messages I'm exchanging with random people over the Internet.He'd probably be horrified.*“JARVIS?” he said into the empty kitchen.“Yes, Captain Rogers?”Potential responses began to mass in his mind.JARVIS, I’m an idiot. JARVIS, this crush is getting out of hand. JARVIS, can you imagine any way, any possible way, Tony might be interested in me? JARVIS, some days I’m not sure if he even likes me. JARVIS, I think about him all the time. JARVIS, I’m ninety years old and I’m asking a computer program for advice on my love life. JARVIS, what should I do?*Tony puts out an ad. Steve answers it.





	1. Requirements: intelligence, flexibility and discretion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WhenasInSilks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhenasInSilks/gifts).



> This story is mostly written and is going to be posted regularly about every four days. I have seven chapters finished and I hope that if I will have a small bunch of encouraging readers, I'll manage to polish off the 8th and write the 9th chapter before I post everything that's already finished. But even if not, THIS WILL BE FINISHED AND POSTED! On this I swear!!
> 
> This started as a collab with WhenasInSilks, a huge THANK YOU to her for working with me on this and encouraging me when I was feeling down and helping me with basically everything!! This story would never have Steve's POV if she hadn't intervened. She explained the nature of Steven Grant Rogers. I'm not entirely sure I got it right, but the story did benefit in a huge way and she even wrote several of Steve's POVs for this story. Only about half of Steve's POV is written by me. (Edit: the story has grown so much that this is no longer true. I think the last thing written by Silks was in ch7. After that my major help and influence has been Loran via insightful betaing - thank you SO MUCH.)
> 
> Also: huge thank yous go out to a number of people who read and reread these chapters and were the most wonderful beta-readers all around: Nix, Magnus, Peppypear, Sadisticsparckle, Miles, Riley M, and last but not least (v.important in fact) Loran. :) And thank you, snnaaft, for cooking up the sexy firefighters! LOL I needed them :)  
> (Edit: athletiger needs to me mentioned too.)
> 
> WARNING: Subdrop is only slight and is not one of the issues that the fic specifically deals with. Tony is historically bad at taking care of himself, so he doesn't really realize he should do something to make himself feel better. Which means that this story does not show the proper way to deal with subdrop. Don't be Tony!! Before any kind of play that involves power dynamics, take care to research the issue yourself.
> 
> Narukyuu made me a BANNER!! (It's actually David Gandy and the beard was not there originally. Awesome work tho, right?)  
> Check it out here:
> 
>  
> 
> <http://naruartsbutts.tumblr.com/post/178611858096/a-banner-i-made-for-serinah80-fic-untapped>  
> 

 

 

His finger hovered over the ‘submit’ button. Was it a bad idea? Hell, yes! Was he going to do it? Oh, fuck it!

 

He clicked the submit button.

 

_**Male, early forties, looking for Key Holder of any gender. Requirements: intelligence, flexibility and discretion. Online only.** _

 

There. Done. It wasn’t even a real commitment, Tony told himself. He didn’t even have to read the answers should he get any, nevermind reply to them. He went to the workshop and purposefully forgot about it for almost three days.

 

*

 

There were 13 replies. Not bad, considering his bland ad. People on this site seemed to prefer to meet their play partners in real life or at least see pictures or talk over Skype. ‘Discretion’ probably scared a bulk of the potential partners off.

 

He didn’t need anything elaborate. He had some fantasies, sure, but he didn’t really have time for them. He also didn’t actually wear a cock cage, he just wanted to spice things up a bit for himself. He had a high libido, and during his playboy years he’d got his rocks off regularly as a part of partying, but now he was just constantly horny and tended to masturbate all the time while feeling unsatisfied after orgasming. He’d tried dating, but casual relationships just weren't doing it for him anymore and something serious, well, he couldn't get who he wanted and didn't feel like putting on a front for someone he didn't care about. Plus, it wouldn't be fair to his potential partners who he couldn’t commit to.

 

Long story short, when his masturbating had gotten out of hand he’d tried abstinence and it had worked like a charm. He’d discovered he actually had a denial kink. Which… He just needed someone else to say no, so he’d written an algorithm to tell him when he could touch himself and how often to orgasm. The main downside to that was that the algorithm only played with variations he himself inputted and his brain kept calculating the odds which tended to take all the thrill out of it. He plain refused to get JARVIS involved. JARVIS was _family_ for fuck’s sake!

 

So that’s why the ad. One reply he deleted without reading - it's subject line said ‘kneel you bitch’. The others he opened.

 

_**-My wife and I are looking for a cuckold for occasional games. Msg if interested.** _

 

Tony’s eyebrows joined his hairline. Um… Right. _Delete_. Several next ones were a little better, but they all varied in their crudeness and most somehow assumed that he’d be thrilled to drop to his knees the moment someone called him a slut. One asked if he would consider relocating to Wyoming to be his house slave. And then there was that:

 

_**-Experienced domme and a slave owner custom designs games for your pleasure only for $200/h.** _

 

Tony sighed. If he wanted ‘professional help’ he’d just get it in a club somewhere.

 

Three of the messages were variations of ‘seems interesting, tell me more’ which he should probably respond to, but the eleventh reply felt different.

 

_**-Hello HanShotFirst. I like your username. I'm not very experienced in this sort of thing, but I think I fit the requirements of your ad? I'd need a bit of flexibility in return, but I can definitely handle discretion. Let me know if you think we'd be a good fit; otherwise, best of luck with your search!** _

 

It was followed by a second message sent a minute later.

 

_**-Oh, and I'm a 28-yr-old male. I probably should have mentioned that before, shouldn't I.** _

 

“JARVIS, track this message. Don't tell me anything about him. I just want to know if what he says about himself is true. And if he could be a good fit to the best of your knowledge.” There was a longer pause. “JARVIS?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Anything?”

 

“Yes, sir. His age and sex check out.”

 

“And? What about the rest? Check if he’s, you know, running a Ponzi scheme out of his apartment or is blackmailing his other play partners or has a computer full of child porn. Or, even, I don’t know, just really violent porn?”

 

“Er… No. Nothing like that at all.” There was that strange pause again. “I do, however, seem to be having somewhat of a moral dilemma.”

 

“Oh? What's wrong with him?”

 

“No, nothing is wrong with him at all. I think I even rather like him as your potential play partner. It's just that… There is something I'm sure you would like to know about him, but me telling you would definitely violate his privacy.”

 

Interesting. “And is me not knowing this curious fact in any way dangerous?”

 

“No. Not in the usual sense of the word. It’s just the question of his identity. Like you being Iron Man on the market for a Key Holder could be a dangerous information. It’s a bit similar for him.”

 

“Oh? He’s famous?”

 

“I’m afraid I cannot be of any assistance should you wish to continue this line of inquiry.”

 

“Hm. That’s a yes, isn’t it, JARVIS?”

 

“I can’t confirm or deny, sir. However, I do feel the need to caution you that should this partnership develop far enough, the potential problems in your professional life are the least you could be facing.”

 

“Ha! Which professional life? SI? Or Avenging? JARVIS?”

 

“I’m afraid, I really can’t tell you anything further.”

 

Tony pursed his lips. Well, if the guy was even semi-famous, he’d understand about privacy. Could he be involved with SI or SHIELD? In any case, problems in professional life could only occur if Tony let it get beyond an online game, which he wouldn’t.

 

_**-Hello DamnThoseYankees. Can't say I know anything about baseball, but I like that you're batting for our team. Compulsory sport joke delivered (no need to return the joke by referencing the supposed hint at premature ejaculation hidden in my username), I’m glad you wrote to me. We should chat to see if our expectations for the games match. My timezone is EST. Hopefully yours is not that different, but I'm up at crazy hours for work and sometimes just because. So let me know when we can chat. :)** _

 

Tony padded down to the communal kitchen to find something to eat. His own kitchen was rarely stocked. The fact which he cursed the moment he stepped into the kitchen, because Steve was there. Anywhere Tony went these days, he couldn't escape Steve Rogers. Not his kitchen, not his dreams.

 

“Hi, Cap,” he said, and his lips did the involuntary stretching towards his ears, because they didn't seem to be informed of the new ‘we do not act like a besotted school boy around Steve’ policy. In fact, none of the organs below his brain seemed to be on board with it. His heart was thudding, his palms were sweating and it was all Tony could do to stop his feet from moving past the fridge and straight into Steve’s personal space. He got his body under control and looked into the fridge, ignoring Steve's answering smile.

 

“Tony,” he heard Steve say.

 

_I wonder what he would think if he knew what kind of messages I'm exchanging with random people over the Internet_.

 

He'd probably be horrified.

 

_What would he think if he knew how he makes me feel?’_ he thought not for the first time. The answer would probably be the same.

 

_*_

_Damn_ , Steve thought, as Tony sauntered past him, trailing the scent of shampoo and some other product, and _Damn_ he thought again, as Tony yanked open the door to the fridge with a speculative hum. The sound was low and throaty in an absent-minded kind of way, as if Tony didn’t even know he was doing it. It _did_ things to Steve, made him think about things that were… frankly, entirely inappropriate for a team leader to be thinking about any of his teammates.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tony bounce a little on the balls of his feet and stretch, a graceful, catlike motion. Steve found his gaze drawn inexorably to the curve of Tony’s back, long and supple, like the arc of a bow. His fingers itched for a pencil. They weren’t the only things that itched.

 

_God_ _damn_ _it._

 

“That chicken offend you?” he heard, and realized he’d cursed out loud.

 

Steve glanced down at his hand where it hovered over the mixing bowl, egg white and yolk and mangled bits of eggshell dripping through clenched fingers.

 

“Got a bit of eggshell in the bowl,” he said, and headed for the trash. “I’m making omelettes,” he added. “Want one?”

 

“No, thank you. I’ve got a thing at the office in a bit.”

 

“You should eat more,” Steve told him, before he could stop himself. He felt a flush begin to creep up the back of his neck.

 

“Aww, Cap, I didn’t know you cared.”

 

Steve resolutely cracked another egg into the bowl, resisting the urge to turn and watch him go. Not that it much mattered—with his photographic memory, he could reconstruct the sight in his mind down to the tiniest sway of Tony’s hips.

 

Lucky him.

 

“JARVIS?” he said into the empty kitchen.

 

“Yes, Captain Rogers?”

 

Potential responses began to mass in his mind. _JARVIS, I’m an idiot. JARVIS, this crush is getting out of hand. JARVIS, can you imagine any way, any possible way, Tony might be interested in me? JARVIS, some days I’m not sure if he even likes me. JARVIS, I think about him all the time. JARVIS, I’m ninety years old and I’m asking a computer program for advice on my love life. JARVIS, what should I do?_

 

Steve sighed and cracked another egg against the side of the bowl. It split neatly down the middle—two perfect halves. Much easier with no one around to distract him. So many things would be much, much easier...

 

“Nevermind,” he said.

 

*

 

Steve finished breakfast and headed upstairs to grab his sketchbook. He’d barely closed the door of his room behind him when JARVIS spoke.

 

“You have a message waiting that might be of interest, Captain.”

 

“Oh?” Steve said. “Open it for me, would you?”

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

The tablet by his bed powered on with a beep. Steve picked it up and saw with faint surprise that it opened to his personal email account, the one he hardly ever used. There was only one unread message.

 

_**-✉ New message from HanShotFirst** _

 

Steve blinked, feeling a prickle of interest low in his belly. He’d signed up to that particular site more out of curiosity than anything else. When he’d replied to that ad inquiring about a keyholder it had been… not a whim, exactly, but certainly not anything he expected to bear fruit. He still wasn’t entirely convinced, despite JARVIS’s assurances, that using the site would be safe. Quite apart from the many enemies who would jump at a chance to mess with Steve’s head, there was the PR disaster that was sure to follow if it ever got out that Captain America was into, well…

 

Sexual domination.

 

Because Steve was into it.

 

_Very_ into it, as it turned out.

 

Keeping his voice light, he said, “Thank you, JARVIS. Just so you know, this isn’t really the sort of message that you need to notify me about. In fact, I’d prefer that you didn’t.”

 

“Certainly, Captain. My apologies for the error.”

 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Steve said automatically, finger hovering over the screen. “I’ll, uh. I’ll let you know if I need anything else, okay?” he added. It was ridiculous, he knew. How did one dismiss an omnipresent AI? But Steve wasn’t sure he’d be able to continue if it felt like JARVIS was reading over his shoulder.

 

“Very good,” JARVIS said.

 

Steve adjusted himself, feeling both excited and strangely self-conscious, and sat down on the bed.

 

He read through the brief message. Apparently this guy—Han, Steve decided to call him—was in the same time zone, which was convenient. At least, it would be convenient, if he decided to go through with this, which was something he wasn’t at all certain about. After all, there were so many, many reasons not to.

 

His eyes kept returning to the phrase, “I’m glad you wrote to me.” Not “good to hear from you,” or “thanks for your message,” but “I’m glad you wrote to me.” There was a personal note to the words that made Steve’s stomach do a funny kind of flip. The writer of the ad must have received… dozens of replies, surely.

 

And that right there was the reason he really shouldn’t be doing this. He’d exchanged all of two messages with this stranger and already he was building up a whole personal narrative in his head. Wasn’t that the whole point of this online thing, to maintain distance? To keep it impersonal?

 

When it came to sex and relationships, Steve historically wasn’t too great at keeping things casual.

 

Would he even have responded to the message, if the username and the ad hadn’t reminded him just a little bit of To -

 

So there it was. This was a bad idea, for more reasons than one. The sensible thing to do would be to send a polite refusal - or, better yet, to simply delete the message and shut down his account. Manners were different these days. People disappeared like that all the time. The guy - Han - probably wouldn’t think anything of it. He’d probably sent out a dozen responses, just like the one he’d sent Steve. That would be the smart thing to do. Shop around, look for the best fit. Han seemed like a smart sort of guy, from what Steve could tell.

 

Except…

 

He’d made a joke about Steve’s username (and his own). Which, okay, it made sense to personalize a little, even if you were sending out a bunch of messages. But even so…

 

_I’m glad you wrote to me._

 

Surely it would be churlish not to reply, if there was even a chance the words were sincere? And really, what harm could it do to just talk to the guy? If it turned out that they weren’t compatible, so much the better.

 

(And if they _were_ compatible… If this stranger on the internet decided that out of all the possible candidates, he wanted _Steve_ to be the one to control his pleasure…)

 

Steve shuddered around a wave of arousal, and clicked through to the site before he could think better of it. He was just starting to compose his reply in his head when he noticed the green dot next to the man’s username. He was fairly certain that hadn’t been there when he’d first replied to the ad. He glanced down at the right-hand corner, and sure enough, in the chat bar, the name HanShotFirst was listed as “online now.”

 

He hesitated. It would be safer - less presumptuous - to send a more formal message, arrange a time, etc. Then again, what about this so far had been ‘safe’?

 

Steve opened the chat window and started to type.

 

*

 

Tony couldn’t believe his eyes - his first choice of KH was online and writing him!

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** hi, HanShotFirst

**DamnThoseYankees:** we were chatting about the keyholder thing?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I was just sitting down to respond to your message and tell you I have time to chat tonight

**DamnThoseYankees:** but then I saw you were online and I’m actually free right now so I thought I might just IM you instead

**DamnThoseYankees:** I hope this isn’t too weird...

 

Surreptitiously, Tony glanced around the table, but everyone seemed to be listening to the presenter. Tony moved his seat so that he could put his phone under the table. Not that he'd actually fool anyone or that people would really be shocked to see him texting during the meeting, but he'd prefer people not seeing what he was chatting about. Tony typed up the reply.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Not at all. I'm glad you contacted me now. I'm in a meeting, so don't worry if it takes me a bit longer to respond.

 

“Are you sure of your numbers?” Tony asked. “You haven't started testing this, have you?” He already knew the answer though, so didn't listen to the blustering man.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** Oh.

**DamnThoseYankees:** Wow.

**DamnThoseYankees:** Guess we better keep it G rated then?

 

Tony almost snorted.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Haha. We'd better.

**HanShotFirst:** Although god knows the bunch of them could use some excitement in their lives. And they've certainly seen worse than my hard-on.

 

“So you see, Mr Stark, what we propose is exactly what Stark Industries is about. I'm not really sure where the difficulty is. As you can see from out analysis sheet the risk is, in the end, minimal.”

 

**HanShotFirst:** sry, need a mo

 

Tony swiveled in his chair and, without looking up from the phone, said, “I understand what you’re saying and your concerns might seem valid on the spreadsheet, but minimal risk is not what we should be thinking of here. You’ve been with Hammer for the last couple of years, so I understand how you might have confused caution with success, but if these are honestly the results you expect to get, then you will be lucky to see any progress made at all. That is as far from what Stark Industries is about as it can possibly be.” He waved his hand dismissively. “I know, I know what the numbers say and I just disagree.”

 

One of the head accountants jumped right in to give his two cents, but Tony paid the further discussion no mind.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Sry, someone actually wanted my input.

**HanShotFirst:** But let's get down to… business, Mr MetsLover.

**DamnThoseYankees:** what makes you think I'm a Mets fan?

 

HanShotFirst: Well, with a name like yours, you're either Mets or Red Sox, and I really couldn't square sexting up a Red Sox fan with my conscience, soooo…

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** Mets it is

 

Tony smirked.

 

**HanShotFirst:** You said you didn't have much experience with this?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ve thought about it

**DamnThoseYankees:** a lot

 

Tony felt the first stirring of arousal.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Tell me more

 

_Shit_. Was that too soon for sexting? The guy was probably just telling about his background.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I'm sorry, I'm just getting ahead of myself, ignore me. Go on.

**DamnThoseYankees:** I guess that answers the question of whether you’re okay with a bit of public play, haha

 

Tony’s breath caught. Aand… hello, arousal, here we go.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I mean

**DamnThoseYankees:** that was a joke

**DamnThoseYankees:** sorry

**HanShotFirst:** No, don’t apologise. It makes a run of the mill meeting that much more exciting.

 

He peered around the table, but everybody was pretending not to notice Tony being immersed in his phone.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m sorry, I meant to say that in certain circumstances public play could be discussed, but it has to be very discreet.

**DamnThoseYankees:** yes, of course  
**DamnThoseYankees:** like I told you, I’m all for discretion.

**DamnThoseYankees:** anyway, I was going to say that I have a lot of experience um  
**DamnThoseYankees:** being in charge

**DamnThoseYankees:** in my job

 

_Fuck, yes, yes, yes._ Tony had a hard time not grinning like a maniac.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** just not in this particular context

 

Thank God everyone was used to him not paying attention at these meetings. The whole thing was a formality by this point anyway. The only person that didn't know it was the presenter.

 

**HanShotFirst:** It gets me hot when you talk about being in charge.

**HanShotFirst:** On a serious note - I know what you mean by being in charge professionally. But don’t you get tired of it?

**DamnThoseYankees:** not really

**DamnThoseYankees:** I guess it’s just how I’m wired

 

_Oh thank fuck._ Tony might have struck gold on this one. Pleasant, polite and liked being in charge.

 

**HanShotFirst:**  A man after my own taste. ;)

**DamnThoseYankees:** and the guys at work

**DamnThoseYankees:** they don’t always listen

**DamnThoseYankees:** I guess I really like the idea of telling you

**DamnThoseYankees:** sorry, telling someone

**DamnThoseYankees:** to do something and having it just be done

**DamnThoseYankees:** you know?

**HanShotFirst:** Yeah…

 

Although he clearly was more expressing his pleasure than agreeing with the sentiment.

 

**HanShotFirst:**  Sorry, you kind of got me daydreaming

**HanShotFirst:**  But, it’s so difficult to tell sometimes - is this a sharing moment or sexting moment?

**HanShotFirst:** Because if you’re getting things off your chest then yes, my colleagues can be damn pigheaded too. Especially my team leader. But never mind about him

**HanShotFirst:** But if this (and I’m really hoping it is) is a sexting moment then I would love to do everything you tell me. ;)

**DamnThoseYankees:** sounds like you give your boss a lot of trouble

**DamnThoseYankees:** you planning on giving me a lot of trouble?

**DamnThoseYankees:** (that was sexting)

**DamnThoseYankees:** (that okay?)

**HanShotFirst:**  (very okay)

 

The guy was oddly sweet and Tony felt a flutter in his stomach.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Oh, I'm trouble all right

**HanShotFirst:** That's how *I'm* wired

 

Tony swirled left and right in his chair.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Seriously though, is that something you would like? Me giving you trouble?

**HanShotFirst:** Because I can be trouble too, but I'm more the type to just melt at some point and do whatever you tell me to. Is that a turn-off for you?

**DamnThoseYankees:** no that’s

**DamnThoseYankees:** that’s good

**DamnThoseYankees:** it sounds like you want that

**DamnThoseYankees:** to be good for me

**HanShotFirst:** Yeah…

 

His trousers were starting to get uncomfortable.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Is it weird to admit that I’m turned on right now?

**HanShotFirst:** I’m literally staring at chart pies and schematics while having a stiffy

**HanShotFirst:** Shit. It is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry.

**HanShotFirst:** Ignore me.

**DamnThoseYankees:** no, it’s good

**DamnThoseYankees:** sexting, right?

**DamnThoseYankees:** are you hard for me right now?

 

Tony almost groaned.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yes

**HanShotFirst:** If the meeting ended now, I’d have to claim a leg cramp ;)

**HanShotFirst:** Are you?

**HanShotFirst:** Hard?

 

_Shit._ Why did he have to ask that? What if he wasn't? Not everyone was so easily turned on.

 

**HanShotFirst:** It’s fine if you aren’t. I’m just

**HanShotFirst:** Easily excited. It’s been a while

 

A while since he’d done anything more than jack off in his bedroom that is. Even if anonymous and online, just even talking about this was so much more that he'd done in months. But what if it wasn't enough for the MetsFan? MetsLover? Metsie?

 

**HanShotFirst:** You here?

**DamnThoseYankees:** just thinking

**DamnThoseYankees:** about what I want you to do

 

_Oh God_. That was good. It meant he was interested, right?

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** and yeah

**DamnThoseYankees:** yeah, I’m hard

 

_Fuck. Shit. Fuck. Yeah…_

 

**HanShotFirst:** Fuck

 

It was ridiculous to feel so relieved, but he was. Even if anonymous, even if online, it was somewhat mutual. That there apparently was something he could offer his partner always felt good.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I really need to adjust myself

**HanShotFirst:** Can't

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

**DamnThoseYankees:** you seem like someone who could stand to learn a little patience

**DamnThoseYankees:** now me, that’s not a problem I have

**HanShotFirst:** Impatience?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m a very patient man when I need to be

**DamnThoseYankees:** but no, what I meant was

**DamnThoseYankees:** there’s no one around to care if I touch myself

 

Tony needed a moment to take this in.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** So here’s the thing about me

**DamnThoseYankees:** I like things to be clear

**DamnThoseYankees:** I like to know where we stand

**DamnThoseYankees:** So are we messing around here

**DamnThoseYankees:** trying things out

**DamnThoseYankees:** or are we doing this?

 

_Oh fuck, yes!  Oh thank you, Tesla and all the saints!_

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m game, if you’re game

**HanShotFirst:** At least I’d love to if we can agree on how exactly we want to go about it

**HanShotFirst:** So yes

 

Tony glanced at the discussion still going on around him. It looked like it was winding down, but at a glacial pace.

 

**HanShotFirst:** But we should iron out the details first

**HanShotFirst:** Or idk how much detail we need, maybe you can just do whatever and if I don’t like it, I’ll safeword?

**HanShotFirst:** You familiar with the traffic light system?

**DamnThoseYankees:** sure

**HanShotFirst:** then we’re all set :)

**DamnThoseYankees:** that sounds a bit vague

**DamnThoseYankees:** I might need a bit more detail

**HanShotFirst:** Sure

**HanShotFirst:** How long do you have?

**HanShotFirst:** I’ll be here for an hour at least

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ve got an hour

**HanShotFirst:** Good

**HanShotFirst:** Is there anything in particular that you wanted to know?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I guess I’d like to know

**DamnThoseYankees:** what you want

**DamnThoseYankees:** I mean

**DamnThoseYankees:** what you’re looking to get out of this?

**HanShotFirst:** Well, as you know I was looking for a KH

**HanShotFirst:** I have more than one career, if you can call them that, and they all demand a lot of time and energy

**HanShotFirst:** For this reason (and others) I find myself unwilling to date, but I need some sexual release

**HanShotFirst:** That is to say, I want someone to tell me when not to play with myself

**HanShotFirst:** Because when left to my own devices, I tend to jerk off a lot, but still go somehow unsatisfied

**HanShotFirst:** And then jerk off more

**HanShotFirst:** I think I need someone to keep me focused

**HanShotFirst:** Keep me in line

**HanShotFirst:** Does that makes sense?

**DamnThoseYankees:** yeah

**DamnThoseYankees:** yeah, that makes sense

**DamnThoseYankees:** I can

**DamnThoseYankees:** definitely help you with that

**DamnThoseYankees:** but we should probably talk about limits

**HanShotFirst:** Honestly?

**HanShotFirst:** I have no idea

**HanShotFirst:** I’ve done three days when playing alone. I’ve been using a random number generator, I guess you could say

**HanShotFirst:** But I don’t know if it’s going to be different if I have an actual partner

**HanShotFirst:** Also there’s the question of what you expect in return

**DamnThoseYankees:** that’s not the kind of limit I was talking about

 

Tony blinked. What were they talking about?

 

**HanShotFirst:** Okay, getting nervous now

**DamnThoseYankees:** I mean, what are your boundaries

**DamnThoseYankees:** Do you just want me to be the guy telling you when you can and can’t come?

 

_Oh fuck, no_. Tony wanted so much more than that. But online? He wasn't sure what else they could do.

 

**HanShotFirst:** That is what I advertised for

 

Or maybe…

 

**HanShotFirst:** Also, if you’re interested, you can sometimes tell me to play with myself but not come, or tell me how to come.

 

Tony was getting aroused again.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Or invent other games, idk

**HanShotFirst:** I don’t much like real pain or being called names

**HanShotFirst:** Humiliation is not my thing

**HanShotFirst:** But I like being told no, for any reason. It just gets me crazy hot

**HanShotFirst:** And I like the idea of any pleasure I get is at someone else’s discretion

**HanShotFirst:** that all that I do is dictated by my dom

 

Was that too much? Too honest? Fuck, he always went overboard.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Sry, got carried away again

**HanShotFirst:** Anyway

**HanShotFirst:** I like bondage, restraints are good, sometimes I use toys on myself

**HanShotFirst:** I mean, if I have time, I could try things if you wanted

**DamnThoseYankees:** no, you’re good

**DamnThoseYankees:** it’s all good

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ve got a few ideas, yeah

**DamnThoseYankees:** too many ideas, really

**DamnThoseYankees:** you mind if I don’t type for a bit?

**DamnThoseYankees:** need to jerk off

**DamnThoseYankees:** it’s a shame, really

**DamnThoseYankees:** that you can’t even adjust your pants...

 

Tony couldn’t believe what he was reading. Tony could barely breathe. He had no idea what was going on around him.

 

“Mr Stark?”

 

He raised his eyes from the phone.

 

“Mr Stark? Are you all right?”

 

“Yes, I’m perfectly fine. Go on.” He waved at them dismissively.

 

“If you don’t feel well, Mr Stark, we can postpone,” the presenter said. “I’m happy to finish this at a later time-”

 

“No, no. That won’t be necessary.” What he did need was to get out of here, but he couldn’t go. Not in this state; they’d all see… “I’d prefer we finish this now.” And no way he was listening to this drivel the second time. Tony glanced at his phone.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you there?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m sorry

**DamnThoseYankees:** was I being too forward?

**DamnThoseYankees:** it’s just

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ve never talked about this with anyone before and it’s…

**DamnThoseYankees:** exciting

**HanShotFirst:** No, it’s fine

**HanShotFirst:** You’re fine, I like it

**HanShotFirst:** Did you come?

 

Tony waited with bated breath.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:**  yes

 

_Oh shit, fuck. Oh god._

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** can’t remember the last time I came so hard, actually

**DamnThoseYankees:** made a real mess of these sheets

**DamnThoseYankees:** thanks for that

**DamnThoseYankees:** ;-)

**HanShotFirst:** Oh shit

**HanShotFirst:** You bastard

**HanShotFirst:** You know how hard I am right now?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m starting to get the picture

**DamnThoseYankees:** too bad you’re not going to do anything about it

**DamnThoseYankees:** in fact, you won’t be touching yourself at all until this evening

**DamnThoseYankees:** and even then, only if I tell you to

**DamnThoseYankees:** isn’t that right?

 

Tony felt harder than ever. He changed his pose, but it hardly helped.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Oh fuck, please stop teasing.

**HanShotFirst:** If this goes on much longer, they’ll wrap it up before I calm down and then it won’t be pretty

**DamnThoseYankees:** I don’t know

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m pretty sure I’d enjoy the view

**HanShotFirst:** I’m sure you would

**HanShotFirst:** But the reality is that if I’m gonna stay sitting down all by my own lonesome and ignore all the colleagues, my taskmaster will definitely kill me

**DamnThoseYankees:** I thought I was your taskmaster?

**HanShotFirst:** Yeah, you are the fun kind. She’s the Evil Supervisor From Hell.

**HanShotFirst:** Speaking of - I really need to bow out now. I’m sorry.

**DamnThoseYankees:** all right then

**DamnThoseYankees:** talk to you later?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m free around 11pm EST

**DamnThoseYankees:** if you wanted to play tonight

**HanShotFirst:** Sounds good

**HanShotFirst:** Can’t wait :)

**HanShotFirst:** Any immediate instructions?

**DamnThoseYankees:** only one

**DamnThoseYankees:** you already know it

**DamnThoseYankees:** don't touch yourself

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the AWESOME BANNER:
> 
>   
>  <http://naruartsbutts.tumblr.com/post/178611858096/a-banner-i-made-for-serinah80-fic-untapped>   
> 
> 
> Thank you for reading :) 


	2. Whatever superficial similarities

.

 

What the Mets guy said last stayed with Tony, and every time he remembered the words a momentary warmth flared through his body. It felt so fantastic that even when he passed Steve in the corridor later that night he just flashed him a brilliant smile and went on without the pang that usually shook his whole being.

 

It was the first time in a long while that he actually felt optimistic about anything in his life. 

 

Tony couldn’t wait until their first session. Now that he officially wasn't allowed to touch himself, he got the urge several times during the day, but instead of it being a distraction it just made him feel wonderful.

 

For a tiny fraction of a moment Tony felt paranoid about the fact that he lucked out on  sharing the time zone with his Key Holder and everything seemed just as if custom-made for him, but JARVIS assured him that it was perfectly safe and that he was sure that Mets- Metsie? - had no ulterior motives and no idea of who Tony was. The whole thing just seemed - too good to be true? Perhaps the guy would be useless as a dom? Have some strange quirks or kinks? Damn, Tony had to get his baseless hopes under control and fast. Or maybe he should just enjoy this as long as it lasted.

 

By the time he went to bed with his laptop that evening he was thrumming with excitement. 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** hey

**DamnThoseYankees:** you have half an hour in private?

**DamnThoseYankees:** where are you?

**HanShotFirst:** don’t worry, I know what ‘in private’ means

**DamnThoseYankees:** answer the question

**HanShotFirst:** I’m in my bedroom, Metsie

**HanShotFirst:** *smirking*

**DamnThoseYankees:** You right-handed or left?

**HanShotFirst:** left

**DamnThoseYankees:** okay

**DamnThoseYankees:** then put your right hand on your crotch. Rub it gently. 

 

Tony's breath hitched. 

 

**HanShotFirst:**  what, no foreplay? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** twelve hours of anticipation not enough for you?

**DamnThoseYankees:** because we can go longer if you want

**DamnThoseYankees:** like I said, I’m a patient man

**HanShotFirst:** nono, that is absolutely not necessary

 

Tony was grinning.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m happy to do as I’m told

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

**DamnThoseYankees:** how does it feel? 

**HanShotFirst:** fantastic

**HanShotFirst:** can I unzip? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** not yet

**DamnThoseYankees:** tell me about your day

 

He frowned.

 

**HanShotFirst:** what, now? 

**HanShotFirst:** you hoping to pump me for state secrets? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you know any state secrets? 

**HanShotFirst:** you got me there

**HanShotFirst:** damn this feels good

**HanShotFirst:** been thinking about doing this all day

**HanShotFirst:** can I add some pressure

**DamnThoseYankees:** sure 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but only a little and slow it down

**HanShotFirst:** slow it down? It’s torturous as is

**DamnThoseYankees:** perfect ;)

 

_ Damn that man _ , Tony thought, smiling. His cock gave another excited throb and Tony wished he could take it out or at least speed up.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** now tell me what you got for lunch today

**HanShotFirst:** didn’t have any

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m starting to see why you need someone to keep you in line

 

Tony snorted, but at the same time he felt a rush of warm satisfaction at Metsie’s words. It felt somehow familiar, but Tony pushed the thought away.

 

**HanShotFirst:** starting to think i should’ve changed out of the damn suit pants -  zipper’s a bitch

**DamnThoseYankees:**  :D

**DamnThoseYankees:** increase the speed

 

_ Shit. _

 

**HanShotFirst:** sht

**HanShotFirst:** can i take it out now?

**DamnThoseYankees:** no

 

Tony’s panting got heavier and he wished he could use his left hand.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you still haven’t told me about your day 

**DamnThoseYankees:** must have been productive, if you didn’t have time for lunch

**HanShotFirst:** not really, just your usual day at the office

**HanShotFirst:** can I use my left hand now? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** why?

**HanShotFirst:** would feel better

**DamnThoseYankees:** I bet it would

 

Tony’s lips twitched. Knowing that the refusal was a deliberate power play only made it better.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m gonna rub it raw before I get to the good things

**HanShotFirst:** I’m so hard

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

**DamnThoseYankees:** I like you hard and frustrated ;)

 

Tony felt a ripple of excitement thrum through his whole body and for a moment he pressed on his cock hard, which made his upper body jerk forward a bit and he groaned.

 

**HanShotFirst:** please? With my left? Or take it out? Or something?

**DamnThoseYankees:** ;) 

**HanShotFirst:** PLEASE

**DamnThoseYankees:** ;) I like it when you beg

**DamnThoseYankees:** but aren’t you forgetting something here?

 

It took Tony a minute to get his bearings and think back on the possible issue. What would get Metsie to relent?

 

**HanShotFirst:** I only get the pleasure you allow me?

 

It was silly, but typing it down like that heightened his arousal even more.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** that too

**DamnThoseYankees:** pinch your nipples for me, will you?

 

_ Damn. _ Tony’s eyelids fluttered in pleasure even before he touched his nipples. The pinching sensation shot straight to his cock and he moaned again. Loudly.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** how did it feel?

**DamnThoseYankees:** tell me honestly, I won’t mind if it does nothing for you

**HanShotFirst:** oh it feels good, just

**HanShotFirst:** can I take it out now?

**HanShotFirst:** or use my left?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ll allow that

 

_ Yesss! Wait - which? _

**DamnThoseYankees:** use the left

 

A whoosh of disappointment- no thrill- no, dis- Tony didn’t know, but a huge gulp of air left Tony’s lungs just as he started touching himself exactly as he liked, even if it was through his pants. The downside was, though, that he felt an even stronger urge for skin-to-skin contact now. He was so hard and aching and all he could do was to focus all his attention on the screen as if his life depended on it.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** look, I’m in no hurry here

**DamnThoseYankees:** I can do this all night if I have to :)

 

Tony groaned. He desperately wished he could take his cock out or come in his pants or even just stop wanking, but Metsie was still typing.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but it seems like you might be in more of a hurry

**DamnThoseYankees:** so

**DamnThoseYankees:** you going to drag your feet?

**DamnThoseYankees:** or are you going to give me a real answer?

 

An answer about what? Tony tried to cast his mind back to what they were talking before, but kept coming up blank. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** abut?

 

Tony honestly had no idea any more what he was supposed to say.

 

**HanShotFirst:** sorry, jsut

**HanShotFirst:** tell me what I’m supose to do here

 

Damn, he was an idiot. He wished he could stop wanking at least. His hips were bucking up a bit now.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I like you mindless with lust :)

 

Tony groaned, waiting, but when the three dots did not appear, he tried steadying his breathing and started typing himself.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I am sorry, but I don’t remember

**HanShotFirst:** what was I supposed to say?

**DamnThoseYankees:** please pay attention, Han

**DamnThoseYankees:** I will not punish you this time, but I might not be so lenient in the future

 

Without conscious thought, Tony’s hand slowed. He wasn’t sure how he felt about the idea of a punishment, but there was suddenly a weight in his stomach and curious prickle on his skin. What did Metsie even mean by a punishment? A longer denial? More teasing? Pain? Something actually unpleasant? Tony had no idea, but he guessed it would be an issue they’d discuss at a later date. If there would be a later… not a date. Session.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I apologize. I honestly don’t know what you expect me to do right now.

**DamnThoseYankees:** you were supposed to tell me about your day, Han :)

 

For some reason Tony heard the words echo in his head with a dry amusement, that closely resembled-

 

But that wasn’t something he should be thinking about now.

 

His day.  _ Right. Fine. _

 

**HanShotFirst:** I made it to a meeting on time, got a stiffy there, was late to the next meeting, got roasted by the Evil Supervisor, can I take it out now?

**DamnThoseYankees:** yes

 

_ What? _

 

_ Shit. _ Tony scrambled to unzip, took out his cock and half groaned as his fingers curled around it.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but don’t touch it yet

 

_ Wha- _ Tony made a concentrated effort to let go of his cock. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** fuck! Why?

**DamnThoseYankees:** ;-)

**DamnThoseYankees:** okay

 

Tony frowned at the screen.

 

**HanShotFirst:** okay what?

**DamnThoseYankees:** you can touch now 

 

Tony burst out laughing. His pulse was quick and his breath short. Tony quickly uncapped the lube and squirted some onto his palm.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** stroke yourself slowly

**DamnThoseYankees:** slower than before

 

_ Shit.  _ Tony inhaled sharply and took himself in hand again.  _ So  _ much better than some idiotic algorithm. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** fuck

**HanShotFirst:** fuck, fuck, fuck

**DamnThoseYankees:** feel good?

**HanShotFirst:** fuck yes! Can I speed up?

**DamnThoseYankees:** hmmmm

**DamnThoseYankees:** let me think about it

 

Tony could see the answer a mile off, but the anticipation still made his breath hitch and all his muscles tense.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** no

**DamnThoseYankees:** no, I don’t think so 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but you can play with your nipples or sack if you want to

 

Once more, the tension was building up in his groin and spreading throughout his body. Very soon, he was shuddering and groaning and he shifted around on his bed, trying to make pillows accommodate the growing tension. There was no relaxing, though, no relief; everything felt fantastically agonizing and torturously delicious and he loved every second of it. Tony touched his nipples, pinching one, then the other, and was just starting to caress his balls when Metsie started typing again. Never before had three little blinking dots held his attention to such a degree of anticipation.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you can speed up now

**DamnThoseYankees:** bring yourself to the edge if you can

 

Tony drew in a gulp of air and momentarily, his fist started pumping.

 

**HanShotFirst:** wont be a problem

 

He was already more or less there. 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** tell me when you’re close

 

Tony was now moaning and whimpering on every breath. He was pretty sure that he wouldn’t get to come right away. Even coming that night at all was not something he’d bank on at this point of the game, but even if Metsie wouldn’t let him… Fuck, it still felt good! Every tiny bit of it.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m close

**DamnThoseYankees:** stop

 

_ Shit.  _ The hand more or less flew off his dick as he groaned and cursed.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Fck u!

**DamnThoseYankees:** did you stop?

**HanShotFirst:** Yes, you fucker!

**HanShotFirst:** i did

**DamnThoseYankees:** language

**HanShotFirst:** _groans_

**DamnThoseYankees:** or you won’t be coming at all tonight

 

O _ h shit.  _ Tony’s eyes fluttered with pleasure.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’ll be good.

**DamnThoseYankees:** that remains to be seen

**DamnThoseYankees:** now

**DamnThoseYankees:** I want you to do something for me

 

Tony grinned in anticipation.  _ Anything, _ he thought impulsively. 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I want you to think of a friend. A very good friend who’s gone through shit with you and who you trust unquestionably as they do you, but you’ve never been anything but platonic and never will be. 

 

_ Steve. _ Shit. A short stab of painful longing shot through him, but he pushed it down. Steve was the last person he wanted to think about right now. Shame that Bruce still thought that no one knew where he was (as if Tony would let him go without putting a tracker on him). Of course,  Pepper didn’t qualify and neither did Rhodey, thanks to the brief crush Tony had developed on him at MIT which Rhody was still pretending hadn’t happened. So. Tony sighed. Steve it was. His one hundred platonic friend.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Got one. Now what?

**DamnThoseYankees:** now you’re gonna call them

 

_ What? _

 

**HanShotFirst:** What?

**HanShotFirst:** why?

**DamnThoseYankees:** you’re going to call them and talk for about two minutes.

**DamnThoseYankees:** talk about whatever you want

**DamnThoseYankees:** nothing sexy and you don't have to touch yourself or anything

**DamnThoseYankees:** in fact, I’m going to go ahead and say don’t do it. Don’t touch yourself until I tell you again.

**DamnThoseYankees:** just a normal, casual phone call between friends 

**DamnThoseYankees:** they won't know what you are doing, don't worry

**DamnThoseYankees:** (if this is too far, just give me a yellow or red. We can do something else, it’s not a problem.) 

**DamnThoseYankees:** (I don’t want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with)

 

Tony gulped. He meant for Tony to calm down. Okay. That’s… okay. That’s why the phone call, right? Or was this semi public play? Was he checking if Tony had ‘getting caught’ kink? No, probably not… Shit, was he really going to do that? Talking to Steve might not calm him unless it was going to be utterly humiliating. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** okay. 

**DamnThoseYankees:** good 

**DamnThoseYankees:** tell me when you’re finished 

 

Tony’s head had to be mush, because he didn’t even think what he was going to say before dialing. Steve picked up on the fourth ring.

 

“Tony?”

 

He sounded surprised and strangely out of breath. What was he doing in the gym that late?

 

“Hi, Steve. I wanted to ask if you were going to SHIELD tomorrow?”

 

_ What the fuck? _

 

He wasn’t the only one confused - Steve also sounded puzzled. “I wasn’t planning on it. I’ve got a meeting with Director Fury the day after. Why?”

 

“Oh, no reason. No reason whatsoever. Just wanted to know. Maybe come with you, annoy the big boss, you know, the usual.”

 

There was a silence on the other end.  _ Shit. _

 

“But if you’re not going then it’s fine, we’ll go another time. Or well, you will, obviously, and I will go when I go, we don’t have to go together-” Tony closed his eyes in mortification. “Just thought that if you were planning to go anyway and I was going, I’d tag along, but clearly we’re not, because you’re not, so…” Tony swallowed.

 

“Tony, are you all right? You sound strange.”

 

“Who, me?” He forced a laugh. “I’m fine, I’m one hundred percent fine. Peachy and all the fruit. Fruit that are fine.”  _ Oh god. _ “Um… Bye.”

 

He hung up. And buried his face in his hands. Stayed like that for a bit. Breathed in and out and tried not to think.

 

There was a knock.

 

_ Who the hell…? _

 

“Tony? Are you in there?”

 

_ Steve! Shit, fuck, motherfucker, you goddamn idiot! _ Steve was outside his room!

 

“Tony?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you all right? Can I come in?”

 

_ Fuck!  _ Tony looked at his lap. Thankfully, his hard-on was almost all down out of sheer panic. Quickly, he minimized the chat window on his laptop and went to open the door.

 

“Hey, Cap,” he said, trying to smile his most brilliant smile.

 

“Tony, what’s going on? Why did you call me? Do you know what time it is?”

 

“Late? I’m so sorry, Cap. I was working on some schematics and totally lost track of time. Did I wake you?”

 

“No, you didn’t wake me. I thought you sounded weird, and then you just hung up on me. Is everything okay?”

 

“Yeah,” Tony grinned and gestured with his hand exuberantly.  _ Too much. Stop it. _ He let his hand fall awkwardly. “I’m fine. I told you. Just was making plans for tomorrow and didn’t realise it was that late.”

 

Steve’s eyes narrowed. “Did you do something? What did you do? Did you hack into SHIELD again?”

 

Tony gulped. It was embarrassing how quickly his dick took to waving in readiness just from Steve’s close proximity and a concerned frown on his face.

 

“Noo?”

 

“Right.” Steve seemed amused now. Perfect. “I’m sure you had your reasons. You know, if you wanted someone to have your back when Fury orders you flayed, drawn, and quartered, all you had to do was ask. When’s the sentencing? I’m free after one, but I can push some things around if need be.”

 

“No, that’s okay, I don’t think they even noticed I got in. It’s fine, I just panicked for a bit.”

 

Steve put his hand on Tony’s shoulder.  _ It burned. _ “Don’t worry about it, Tony. I’m coming with you.”

 

Tony almost always agreed to anything when Steve touched him, so he nodded again.

 

“Great. See you at two then, yeah?”

 

“Okay.”

 

_ Great.  _ Now he actually had to do something to get roasted for.

 

When he got back to the bed he just sat down and breathed. 

 

*

 

Steve returned to his room in excellent spirits. 

 

Tony’s phone call had come at an undeniably awkward time, and the debate over whether or not it was a good idea to check in on his teammate (and crush) while half-hard from a bout of steaming hot cybering had been as fierce as it was short. Tony had won, as Tony tended to do, in Steve’s mind at least.

 

And it had all gone so much better than expected! Far from bringing him shame, Steve’s secret glowed warm in his belly, a barrier against the uncertainties that interactions with Tony usually raised. Steve had found someone who needed him. Who had  _ chosen _ him. Who even now was probably sitting by his computer, waiting to see if Steve would give him his pleasure or deny it. 

 

For once it was Tony, not Steve, who seemed flustered and awkward - Tony who was in a position of supplication. It felt so good to be able to do something for Tony, to give him the support he needed. It felt better still to leave him knowing he had other, pressing responsibilities to fulfill. 

 

He was a little surprised, when he sat down at his computer again, to see that Han hadn’t said anything in all the time Steve had been gone. But then, he realized with a sudden rush of pleasure, maybe Han had been waiting on him to speak first.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you there?

 

The reply was all but instant.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yes, I'm here

 

Steve closed his eyes against a pulse of satisfaction.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** and?

**HanShotFirst:** Talked to the friend

 

It wasn’t that Steve was surprised that Han had done as Steve had asked. It was just that the novelty of it was nowhere near to wearing off. That he could give orders, even arbitrary, unreasonable ones, and simply have them  _ obeyed _ \- 

 

It felt good. It felt really, really...

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

**DamnThoseYankees:** how’d it go?

**HanShotFirst:** fucking mortifying 

 

Steve pressed his fist to his mouth, pushing back against the grin that threatened to split across his face.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** that so

**DamnThoseYankees:** :)

**DamnThoseYankees:** still on the edge?

**HanShotFirst:** yeah, no. not that much

 

Not exactly an enthusiastic response. For some reason, that just made Steve even harder.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** that's a shame

**DamnThoseYankees:** guess you'll have to start from the beginning then

**DamnThoseYankees:** touch yourself

 

There were a few moments of silence. Steve began to feel uncertain. Was he asking for too much? Should he have asked for a check-in? 

 

When the message appeared, Steve felt relief followed quickly by arousal as he read:

 

**HanShotFirst:** Fuck my dick.

**HanShotFirst:** It's like a spring rabbit

**HanShotFirst:** I just want

**HanShotFirst:** Can I come now?

**HanShotFirst:** Please?

 

Steve sucked in a breath, staring at the word on the screen.

 

_ Please _ .

 

Slowly, he began to type.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** mmm, I like that

 

Then, in a sudden burst, he typed a second message. The tap of the enter button seemed to echo through the quiet room.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** say it again

 

He waited with bated breath for the reply. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** I think I’d really like to come

 

Steve let out a huff of laughter, and shook his head.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you can do better than that

**DamnThoseYankees:** like you mean it

**HanShotFirst:** I need to come, will you please let me?

**HanShotFirst:** May I? Please?

**HanShotFirst:** I’m so hard you’ve no idea

**HanShotFirst:** Please?

**HanShotFirst:** I’m begging, may I?

 

And it was… good, it was what he’d asked for, but there was still something not quite right about it. Like the man was presenting a case, but not truly desperate yet.

 

Well. They could work on that.

 

A notification appeared on the chat window, informing Steve that “User HanShotFirst is typing.”

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** stop

 

The notification vanished.

 

Steve adjusted himself, popping open the top button of his trousers. They really were getting uncomfortably tight.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you work out?

 

There was a brief pause.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Occasionally. Why?

 

A smile flickered over Steve’s face.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** give me thirty push-ups 

**DamnThoseYankees:** naked

**HanShotFirst:** Sir, yes, sir! ;)

**HanShotFirst:** Right away, sir!

 

Steve snorted. The man really did remind him of Tony, every irreverent inch of him. That was fine. He liked a bit of mouthiness, always had. Didn’t mean he didn’t expect to be obeyed.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** uh huh

**DamnThoseYankees:** hop to it, or I’ll make it forty

**HanShotFirst:** Ha-fucking-ha!

 

Steve’s smile widened. Did Han think Steve wouldn’t make him do it? Steve didn’t trade in empty threats, and he would be  _ more  _ than happy to prove it if necessary.

 

As it turned out, it wasn’t necessary. At least, not this time.

 

**HanShotFirst:** ok, I’m naked

**HanShotFirst:** starting now

 

Only after a short while the next message appeared:

 

**HanShotFirst:** done

 

Steve’s eyebrows shot up.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** that was quick

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m impressed

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’ll have to give you more next time

 

He hesitated. Then: 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** how was it? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** did your cock touch the floor?

**HanShotFirst:** Slobberd on it ;)

**DamnThoseYankees:** nice

**DamnThoseYankees:** you would be the sort to make a mess

**DamnThoseYankees:** back on the bed

**HanShotFirst:** you goin to let me come tonigth, right? 

 

Steve’s cock twitched. Unless he was reading into things, there was genuine worry in the question. For a moment, he was horribly tempted to say no. See just how far Han would let him push things. Just how much power he was willing to give.

 

But it was only the first night, with no certain promise of a second one. And really, the man had probably earned his orgasm, all things considered.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** it's the last edging, don't worry 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you’ve been really good for me so far

**DamnThoseYankees:** a little mouthy, but really, really good

**DamnThoseYankees:** so for the next bit, you can use your good hand 

 

Steve talked him through the next few minutes. The other man’s replies were infrequent and often filled with spelling errors - probably, Steve realized, because he had to type with his non-dominant hand.

  
That… probably shouldn’t have turned Steve on as much as it did.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** are you close?

**HanShotFirst:** ys

 

Steve was pretty close himself, to tell the truth, for all he hadn’t so much as touched himself - rock hard and aching, pre-come a damp, dark stain on the front of his briefs. He ignored it. He’d have plenty of time to get off later. At the moment, it wasn’t  _ his _ pleasure that interested him.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you want to come? 

**HanShotFirst:** yes pls

**DamnThoseYankees:** yeah?

**HanShotFirst:** please I really need to

**HanShotFirst:** I've done everything you asked me to

**HanShotFirst:** Pls let me? 

 

The power was headier than wine on the tongue. Steve wondered why anyone ever bothered to get drunk, when they could feel like  _ this _ instead.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** if you do what I ask you

**HanShotFirst:** yes, anything

 

_ Anything _ .

 

Steve rolled the word around in his mouth, savoring its taste, its infinite possibility. His face was flushed; he could feel his heart beating in doubletime against the walls of his chest.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

**DamnThoseYankees:** :)

**DamnThoseYankees:** when I tell you to, I want you put your phone or laptop aside and focus on getting yourself off

**DamnThoseYankees:** you can use both hands, whatever feels good

**DamnThoseYankees:** but when I tell you to stop... 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you stop

 

Steve thought for a second, but decided to go all out.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** if you don't manage to come before then, you aren’t coming at all tonight

**DamnThoseYankees:** sound good?

 

Steve smiled when he saw that it took Han a few seconds to start typing.

 

**HanShotFirst:** how long do I have?

 

Steve’s breath caught. He typed out his reply, feeling almost dizzy with power, with his own audacity.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** as long as I feel like giving you

**HanShotFirst:** fuck

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you understand?

**HanShotFirst:** yes

 

The simple, instantaneous reply filled Steve with warmth.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I want you to make this good

**DamnThoseYankees:** touch your balls, play with your nipples

**DamnThoseYankees:** whatever feels the best

**DamnThoseYankees:** can you do that for me?

**HanShotFirst:** yes

 

Steve was now smiling indulgently and slowly caressing his own crotch.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** are you ready?

**HanShotFirst:** yes

**HanShotFirst:** please

 

Steve felt something in his gut tighten with anticipation.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** go

 

Steve shut his eyes, trying to imagine what his play partner would be doing now. What did Han like? How would he touch himself? Would he use lube? Most likely, if he were circumcised, and it seemed like most men were in this day and age. Would he focus on his cock, or would he touch himself elsewhere, like Steve had suggested? Caress his thigh or cup his balls, drag one slick finger across his perineum to circle his rim…

 

Steve groaned aloud. He wanted, desperately, to touch himself, but he wouldn’t. He  _ couldn’t _ . He had to wait, had to be ready and waiting for when Han finally…

 

The message appeared.

 

**HanShotFirst:** came 

 

Steve let out a shuddering breath. His fingers shook a little on the keyboard.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** great 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you’re

**DamnThoseYankees:** (sry, hit enter too soon)

**DamnThoseYankees:** that’s really great

**DamnThoseYankees:** how do you feel?

**HanShotFirst:** fantastic

**HanShotFirst:** sleepy

 

Steve was still hard, still keyed-up beyond belief, but the words made him smile. The thought of Han, blissed out and exhausted… He felt a surge of tenderness, and a strange kind of peace, like an impossible echo of Han’s afterglow.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** :) 

**DamnThoseYankees:** go to sleep then

**DamnThoseYankees:** I think you’ve earned it

**DamnThoseYankees:** we’ll talk tomorrow

**DamnThoseYankees:** (?)

**HanShotFirst:** yes, definitely

**HanShotFirst:** tomorrow 

**HanShotFirst:** GN

 

Steve was just in the middle of typing his own goodnight when another message appeared on the screen.

 

**HanShotFirst:** wait

**HanShotFirst:** do you expect me to

**HanShotFirst:** keep not touching?

 

Steve sucked in a breath. He’d hoped… Hoped after talking that the other man might be interested in an ongoing arrangement. It would never have occurred to him after only two conversations to ask for that kind of blanket control.

 

But here Han was,  _ offering _ . No. Not even offering.  _ Asking _ . As if everything was already settled. As if the decision was Steve’s by right…

 

Steve’s mouth was dry.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** yes

**DamnThoseYankees:** don’t touch yourself

**DamnThoseYankees:** not until I tell you to

 

The response came only after a couple of seconds.

 

**HanShotFirst:** thank you

 

The words hit him in a white-hot rush. This man - this  _ stranger _ \- was giving Steve control of this fundamental aspect of his life - letting Steve deny him his release, and he was  _ thanking Steve for it _ .

 

Steve sat there for a long time, cursor blinking in the chat box, trying to reduce his feelings into something relatively compact and socially acceptable. At last, he settled for:

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** it’s my pleasure

**DamnThoseYankees:** sleep well

 

He shut the laptop and set it aside, then took himself in hand. It felt so good it was all he could do not to moan aloud. He began to work himself over in quick, efficient strokes, mind filled with thoughts of the session Han and him had just finished - Han desperate and begging, mouthing off a little but still doing whatever Steve told him, Han thanking Steve for denying him, Han finally getting off at Steve’s say-so. He didn’t know what the man actually looked like, of course, so his mind conjured a vision of a generic body. And if by chance that body had curly dark hair and olive skin? Well, that was a problem for another time.

 

When he came, it was harder than he had in recent memory.

 

He was beginning to drift off to sleep when a single, melancholy thought wormed its way into his mind. Whatever the superficial similarities, Steve’s new play partner was really nothing at all like Tony. Tony would never let anyone (much less Steve) have that kind of control over him. And Tony would never, ever beg.

  
  


.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Check out the AWESOME BANNER:
> 
>   
>  <http://naruartsbutts.tumblr.com/post/178611858096/a-banner-i-made-for-serinah80-fic-untapped>   
> 
> 
> Thank you for reading :) 


	3. Think of me (every time it rides up)

 

Tony loved the arrangement he had with Metsie. After that first time, they started chatting every evening and the nightly ritual was soon something Tony was looking forward to.  It felt a little bit as if he had a crush on a person he hadn’t even met, but that would be crazy. Absolutely mad.

 

The crazy part wasn’t that there was some anonymous person who got to say what Tony did or didn’t do with his body sexually (which was fantastic, he hadn’t had such powerful orgasms since puberty and perhaps experimenting with his first girlfriend). The crazy part was that after they both came down from their orgasms they didn’t log off, but stayed to chat about how their days had gone and what was going on in their lives.

 

And then, Tony developed a habit of staying logged in on the site throughout the day and just messaging the Metsie about whatever was on his mind at any given time.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Have an event tonight - red tie or a blue with tiny airplanes? Need an answer in two hours. 

**DamnThoseYankees:** tiny airplanes? really? 

**HanShotFirst:** Yes! It's so, so gaudy - my Evil Supervisor hates it. It's awesome! 

**DamnThoseYankees:** well

**DamnThoseYankees:** I think the airplanes would be a touching tribute to all the brave men and women in the air force

**DamnThoseYankees:** very patriotic

 

Tony snickered and put it on. It wasn't a very big leap from that to… other items of clothing. 

 

**HanShotFirst:** Black silk boxers or a red thong?

**DamnThoseYankees:** what’s the occasion?

**HanShotFirst:** Work ;)

**DamnThoseYankees:** red thong sounds appropriate

**DamnThoseYankees:** you can think of me every time it rides up

 

And that was how the Metsie started dictating his underwear choices.

 

*

 

Sometimes Tony had to embellish; his company business he described in only the vaguest terms and he never alluded to owning it, his ‘employees’ became his ‘colleagues’, to his R&D team he referred to as his interns, Pepper his Evil Supervisor, the Avengers were his other colleagues and Steve was his ‘pigheaded team leader’. Not really a lie, any of it.

 

Tony had no idea how much of what his partner told him was a lie, but he guessed that not much since he rarely told him anything concrete. All Tony knew, was that he basically was constantly on call and worked out a lot. Sometimes he mentioned colleagues and meetings, but not what he did exactly. Maybe he was a consultant of some kind? Or a… firefighter?

 

**HanShotFirst:** Have to go to something with firefighters this Saturday

**DamnThoseYankees:** firefighters?

**HanShotFirst:** Yeah, charity event. My supervisor thinks I have to be present

 

He wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t going to ask, he wasn’t-

 

**HanShotFirst:** you are not a firefighter, are you?

**DamnThoseYankees:** haha :) no, I’m not

**HanShotFirst:** no, don’t answer that

**HanShotFirst:** ah

**HanShotFirst:** that’s okay then

**HanShotFirst:** I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked

**DamnThoseYankees:** that’s okay

**HanShotFirst:** couldn’t help myself

 

Tony shook his head, ruefully and decided to get a grip on himself. It’s not as if he’d appreciate that kind of questions from Metsie. On the other hand, how likely it was for him to ask if Tony was the head of an international corporation or a superhero?

 

He gave himself a metaphorical shake and turned back to the chat.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but that’s the last time I’m answering this type of a question

**HanShotFirst:** would you believe me if I told you that it was an attempt at sexting?

**DamnThoseYankees:** haha

**DamnThoseYankees:** roleplaying already?

**HanShotFirst:** I just so happen to think that firefighters are sexy

**DamnThoseYankees:** sexy, huh?

**HanShotFirst:** yeah, nevermind

**HanShotFirst:** sorry

**HanShotFirst:** anyway, about the event

**HanShotFirst:** I’m not even going to do anything there, just shake hands and tell them about our company

**HanShotFirst:** Boring as fuck

**DamnThoseYankees:** but at least firefighters are bound to be all heroic and handsome, right?

**HanShotFirst:** :)

**HanShotFirst:** there is that

 

There was a brief pause. 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** what time are you leaving on Sat?

**HanShotFirst:** At about seven, can’t be too early, too unfashionable

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you have time from 5-6 before that?

 

Tony felt himself starting to grin.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I knew I could count on you to make the evening tolerable!

**HanShotFirst:** Yes, I can clear up that hour for you

**DamnThoseYankees:** good. I’ll make plans.

 

What happened in the end, was merciless edging for the first thirty minutes and during the second half of the hour Metsie let him orgasm twice. After that Tony felt so pliant and relaxed that he almost didn’t go to the event, but Metsie told him he had to since he was ‘carefully primed’ to not care about all the sexy firefighters he’d see and therefore would have a clear head for networking. (He wouldn't be really networking, but Tony didn't correct him.)

 

Was it possible that Metsie cared whether he found looking at beautiful people exciting or not? The way his insides warmed at the idea made Tony ruthlessly squash the whole line of reasoning. Metsie was just a playmate: a stranger with only one thing that Tony knew for sure they had in common. No need to make up feelings behind the pixelated words.

 

* 

 

In a formal, three-piece suit, Tony looked devastating; the way the fabric draped over his shoulders, clung to his back and thighs, the way it moved with him when he lightly bounced on the balls of his feet while scrolling something on his phone.

 

It was all Steve could do - stand at the rec room door and try not to lose his lower jaw to the gravity while his blood rushed southward. He wanted to press Tony against the wall and put his lips where the hair curled against his skin behind his ear. Or grab him by the shoulders and demand where he was going.

 

The elevator went ‘ping’ and Steve must have made some kind of noise because at that moment Tony glanced up over his shoulder and shot him a surprised smile. The smile was slow, happy and so utterly content that Steve’s breath caught. Tony waved at Steve’s jerky nod, stepped into the elevator and disappeared behind the sliding doors.

 

Suddenly, the feeling of accomplishment he’d experienced after preparing Han with two orgasms for the evening full of attractive fire department workers  evaporated. It wasn’t as if it mattered in the grand scheme of anyone’s life. Not in Han’s, not in Steve’s and certainly, not in Tony’s. When had it  _ ever _ mattered what Steve Rogers did? Unless as Captain America, unless it was life and death, Steve’s mark on anyone’s life was insignificant. He might play at having control over some bodily functions of a random guy he’d met online, but here, in real life, his actions amounted to very little. So what if Han didn't feel any stirring in his pants at  _ this _ event? Would Han even give him the time of the day if he knew how mundane Steve Rogers actually was? Or would he smile, wave and leave just like Tony not two minutes ago?

 

Steve made a concentrated effort to loosen his jaw and fists and, taking measured breaths, walked towards the kitchen.

 

“Is that Bruce's curry I smelled all the way from the rec room?” he asked in greeting, hoping that Natasha, who was sitting at the table with a mug of something in front of her, wouldn’t spot his inner turmoil. The way Tony smiled and a waved at him was playing in a loop in Steve’s brain and the need to find out where Tony was going, or rather, who he was going with. The need was an anxious, angry energy simmering under his skin.

 

At the counter, Bruce shot him a fleeting smile and Steve stepped closer to the stove to peer into the pot.

 

“I was feeling like cooking tonight,” Bruce replied, “and I thought that since I was already home, I should at least go big.”

 

Steve’s grinned. “Sensible,” he said, put on his thinking face, and asked, “You sure that’s gonna be enough?”

 

“Thor is not here. You’re the only cookie monster present,” Natasha said.

 

“Curry monster,” Bruce interjected.

 

“We’re all curry monsters if it’s your curry, Bruce.” Steve opened the cupboard to get the plates out. “I know, but what about Clint and Tony?”

 

“Clint is on a mission, Tony’s out,” Natasha replied. “Didn’t you see him go just now?”

 

“Caught the sliding doors,” Steve said truthfully. “Where did he go? He’s gonna regret missing Bruce’s cooking.”

 

There was a split second where Steve regretted asking, but the angry restlessness in his blood needed to  _ know  _ if it was an event or a date or both. Still facing the cupboard, he put the plates on the counter and reached for the mugs and then cutlery, while giving himself time to school his facial muscles into something pleasant.

 

Bruce hummed. “There would be leftovers,” he said, totally missing the portion of the question Steve actually was interested in.

 

Steve was still feverishly racking his brain how he could get the conversation back to Tony’s whereabouts, but after a beat of silence Natasha saved him the trouble with, “Maria Stark Foundation is having an event to raise funds for the NYCFD.”

 

And Steve’s brain stuttered to a halt.

 

A firefighter event? That sounded like a firefighter event, didn't it. Was it the same one Han was going to?

 

“There might not be any leftovers,” Steve said after a short pause, his thoughts whirring.

 

For the rest of the dinner, Steve was a poor conversationalist. Han and Tony were most probably at the same event. Maybe they’d even talk to each other? Maybe they already knew each other? Maybe even Steve-

 

No. Steve knew too few of Tony’s business associates. If Han went to similar events often enough he’d probably have met Tony, but it would be a stretch to think that Steve had. What if Tony had invited him tonight though? Sometimes he did and sometimes Steve went. Sometimes they were even required to go to the same events. Might he have already met Han?

 

He couldn’t stop thinking about it, thinking of scenarios in which he could actually meet Han, run into a handsome stranger at a gala, shake his hand, smile at him, and the stranger would smile back and they’d hit it off. They’d go on a date and Steve would write Han that he had to break it off, but Han would say that it was totally fine because he’d also met someone. And that was how Steve would know.

 

Or maybe he could ask Han about it? Say he'd seen a blurb of the event on a news site and ask if he’d ever met any Avengers? Iron Man or Captain America? Or would that be creepy? Han might start thinking that he'd purposefully researched events with firefighters. 

 

Steve went to bed anxious and yet giddy, undecided what he should do, uncertain if he even  _ should _ do anything. It took him a while to settle his mind and just before succumbing to sleep, his mind conjured up an image of Tony Stark in his tuxedo, adjusting the cufflinks, looking up at Steve and stretching his lips into that same mesmerizingly tender and content smile he’d seen earlier at the elevator, only this time he was standing sloser. So much closer, and turning his face up, Tony leaned in.  _ Damn you, Tony Stark _ , Steve thought and sighed. 

 

*

 

A week after the firefighter event Steve was still thinking about it - how after  the NYCFD event, he’d not let Han orgasm for the next two days despite edging him in the evenings while jerking off to his pleas. Steve did feel vaguely guilty for enjoying it so much; after all, he himself got off at least twice a day. Was he taking revenge for feeling out of control in other areas of his life? Surely a feeling that could be described with the word ‘powerdrunk’ had to be wrong?

 

Only Han clearly didn’t think it was wrong at all. Throughout his day, Han sent Steve messages of how much he was enjoying himself. Every time Han wrote that he got hard at random and importune times, for instance while signing documents or standing in a coffee shop line, Steve felt his stomach burst with butterflies. The idea that Han denied himself and would continued to deny himself unless Steve said otherwise, was a gift Steve had never even dreamed of wishing for. That Han was doing it willingly and enthusiastically made him feel  _ high _ .

 

Even now, several days later, sitting on a sofa for a semi-regular movie night with his team mates, he was still thinking about it. And sure, every time he saw Tony - all that unattainable perfection framed by infuriating flaws - was a bit of a torment, but all he had to do was think of Han and he could almost forget about his hopeless and ill-advised little crush. Because Han wanted him - maybe even needed him, and in that case, maybe it was okay if Steve needed him right back.

 

*

 

Tony was still walking around on cloud nine (or nine million) when Fury ordered Steve and him to an opening of a new military training base as the Avenger’s representatives. Tony wasn’t particularly excited nor was he anxious about it. Sure, the event itself was going to be a drag, but he enjoyed doing things with Steve.

 

The plan was to fly out (forty minutes of working on his phone designs), get introduced to a bunch of brass (be witty and insolent), listen to their admonishments about manning up and taking up some weapon-related military contracts again (ignore them), watch them fawn over Steve (run interference if necessary), get a tour (find ways to infiltrate - just for fun), and participate in field training for tactics (Steve and Tony against a platoon or something). Then Steve would then give a speech and Tony would talk new gadgets. After that he’d guide impressionable young minds in how to hack the really fun stuff, and the plane trip back he’d spend dealing with correspondence.

 

This was not what happened.

 

When Tony arrived at the airport’s private section, Steve was just getting out of the car. He straightened up, turned to look at Tony-

 

and-

 

smiled.

 

And just like that Tony was gone, gone, gone. The moment Steve turned his full focus on Tony, everything else ceased to matter. He smiled back. It didn’t matter that Tony had this exciting new thing in his life which made him happy, it didn’t matter that he’d barely interacted with Steve for over three weeks now and didn’t even notice (liar, liar, liar), and it certainly didn’t matter that Steve was still, devastatingly straight and unattainable.

 

The moment his backside hit the seat, Tony opened up the site app and messaged Metsie (it was his plane and Tony Stark did what he wanted), but he was offline. So Tony was just going to work for the whole trip.

 

“So what have you been up to?” Steve asked, focusing the full weight of his attention on Tony. “I’ve missed you.”

 

And that was why Tony didn’t get any work done.

 

The second thing that didn’t go to plan was that when they arrived at the facility, Metsie had still not answered and Steve  _ hated _ upper brass, so he kept close to Tony, engaged him in conversation even when no one else wanted him in it and when the men in all their metal add-ons to their uniforms tried to get too familiar with the WWII hero, Steve stepped real close to Tony, put his arm over his shoulders and a couple of times even put his hand on the small of Tony’s back to guide him through the doors as if they were a couple. The touch burned through his clothes and Tony wanted to scream.

 

Since Steve was Captain America, no one called him out on it, least of all the besotted fool suffering from it. Everyone else seemed to assume that it was just how people acted in the forties, but Tony had no idea if it was true. All he knew was that Steve didn’t act like this at the tower, generally not with his other male friends and certainly never with Natasha (she’d probably take his hand off - nobody got too familiar with her). Then why now with Tony?

 

After the torturous tour was over, Tony excused himself. The first thing he did when entering a stall, was to see if Metsie had replied.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** Hey

**DamnThoseYankees:** I’m sorry, I’m at work

**DamnThoseYankees:** need to glad-hand

**DamnThoseYankees:** what’s up?

**HanShotFirst:** Nothing much

**HanShotFirst:** Needed a distraction, but if you’re busy, I’ll let you be

**DamnThoseYankees:** A distraction, huh? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** want some help with that?

 

_ Shit. _ Oh yes, Tony desperately needed to think of something else than Steve’s hands on him.  _ Please. _

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’d LOVE that!

**HanShotFirst:** But that depends, I really need to be presentable for the next bit

**HanShotFirst:** speeches

**DamnThoseYankees:** Oh? You giving one?

**HanShotFirst:** and listening

**DamnThoseYankees:** Ha!

 

Someone entered the bathroom and Tony listened, but they just went about their own business and Tony went back to texting.

 

**HanShotFirst:** What?

**DamnThoseYankees:** Nothing

**DamnThoseYankees:** You know that old trick - that if you are nervous about giving a speech just imagine your audience naked?

**HanShotFirst:** Idk if it would work

**HanShotFirst:** my audience is old and ugly or young and stupid

**HanShotFirst:** And just generally not my type

**HanShotFirst:** I might vomit

**DamnThoseYankees:** haha

**DamnThoseYankees:** that bad?

**DamnThoseYankees:** I have an idea then

**DamnThoseYankees:** you know Captain America?

 

Tony blinked. Then closed his eyes and sighed. Figures. Everyone had hots for Captain America.

 

**HanShotFirst:** No

**HanShotFirst:** Never heard of him

**HanShotFirst:** Who’s he?

**DamnThoseYankees:** haha

**DamnThoseYankees:** just imagine he’s in the audience

**DamnThoseYankees:** naked

**DamnThoseYankees:** ;)

 

Tony almost moaned. Why? Why? Why? What had he done to deserve this? He couldn’t have Steve. He would never have Steve. He didn’t want to think about him that way, and this anonymous man, who was funny and kind and kinky, who spent a lot of his time chatting to Tony over the internet, even  _ he _ had hots for Captain America. Well, who could blame him, really? But why couldn’t he like Iron Man instead? Or at least Thor? What was wrong with Thor?

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** or Iron Man, if you prefer

 

Tony cleared his throat and belatedly tried to remember if he was alone again. He was.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yeah

**HanShotFirst:** I’ll try that

**DamnThoseYankees:** which one?

 

Tony quirked a self-deprecating smile.

 

**HanShotFirst:** the star-spangled one

 

There was a brief pause.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** good

 

*

 

It had been lip service, of course. Tony wasn’t in the habit of imagining Steve naked. Not that he never had, but thinking about it while giving a speech with the man himself in the audience was just a recipe for disaster. He had tucked his cock into the leg part of his boxer briefs just in case though, because once the idea was put into his head… 

 

He did fine during his own speech, but when he sat down and Steve was up there, the flood gates opened and he wished for a moment that he'd never seen Steve out of his kit, but they'd been fighting alongside for a couple of years now and things happened in the field. Things happened. 

 

He tried looking out the window and even closing his eyes, but the images (part memories, part daydreams) were right there, his half-hard cock trapped next to his thigh and his heart aching.

 

It wasn't fun, but somehow he got through it, and when the workshop part of the day came, he could concentrate on teaching some practical how-to to the brightest blockheads of the military without any difficulty. 

 

Metsie had messaged him before they boarded for the flight back, but for the first time ever, Tony chose to ignore him. He sat down, took out his tablet - 

 

“Did something happen?”

 

Steve looked concerned and that, too, just pissed Tony off.

 

“No, of course not.” He flashed his teeth. “What could've happened?”

 

“I don't know. You seemed out of it during speeches and you don't appear to have recovered. Are you feeling all right?”

 

“Headache. It's fine. Some peace and quiet will sort it out.”

 

He zoned out for a while only to be distracted by a pill on a large long-fingered palm and a glass of water on the small table in front of him. 

 

“You want a painkiller?”

 

Tony raised his gaze to Steve’s. “I already took one before boarding. Thanks.”

 

Steve frowned. “You're… angry with me?” Looking distinctively unhappy, he sat on the seat opposite Tony. “Why? What did I do?”

 

_ You didn’t  _ _ love _ _ me _ , he thought viciously, but after a moment the hot flare of fury died out and he grimaced. “Nothing. Not really. I’m not angry with you.”

 

“Then what is it? Is there anything I can do?“ Steve was watching him with this concerned look that had always made Tony feel like he mattered, but now it just made him extra aware of the fact that Steve would never care about him like he wanted him to, and having this generic, friendly concern directed at him, hurt. “Because, from the way you looked at me just now, it felt like it had at least something to do with me.”

 

Tony stared at him. Huffed and turned his gaze away. “Well.” He tried out a laugh, but it sounded somewhat bitter. “I just found out that someone I apparently liked more than I realized, likes Captain America more than he likes Iron Man, which shouldn’t matter really, but… Yeah, I might be a little angry with you. But I know it's not your fault that you're such a perfect specimen, Captain Spangles. Don't worry, I'll get over it soon enough.”

 

Steve, too, was quiet on the trip back.


	4. Seventeen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: It might happen that some of you, who haven’t experienced subspace, will feel that parts of this chapter are weird and unrealistic. And some of you who have, might also think that how Tony feels doesn’t make sense. You’re both right - it doesn’t, not completely. But it is how I personally experience it, so theoretically Tony could too. For this chapter, I ask you to suspend your disbelief and just go with it (and now that I think of it, for the rest of the story, too. At least whereever subspace or subdrop come up).  
> Subdrop is not dealt with in this chapter, though in places I kind of feel that maybe Tony is dropping, but I'm not sure. If he is, it's slight and will pass on its own. The thing is though - I believe that Tony has an untreated depression and is not really capable of recognising that he's dropping, so it won't come up in this story. I think that when Steve and Tony actually start the relationship for real, Steve will help him to notice and take care of it.
> 
> READER THEORIES: I LOVE when you write what you think is going to happen next! What I'm really surprised about though, is how many of you have expressed the conviction that Steve is on the verge of figuring it out. And now, in hindsight I can see why (because I really wanted to have a lot of fun with intersecting as much of their online and real life as possible), but when writing, I was thinking rather like this: There are thousands of ppl in one time zone, hundreds of them are giving speeches every day, hundreds of people go to various charity galas every year. Plus, Steve is convinced that Tony is at least mostly heterosexual and if anything, he'd be more likely to be into dominating than subbing. Besides, why on Earth would someone like Tony Stark ever hang around a dating site, even if it was a kinky one? And have you ever tried to find someone who perfectly complements your kinks and has a personality you like or can even stand? If it wasn't a big deal for you, count yourself lucky. In my experience, it can sometimes be very difficult even on a site with a several hundred thousand people. How likely is it then that you answer one ad and suddenly it turns out that it's the person you want to play with the most in the world? At least, that’s where I was coming from. That said, I hope that even if you see it differently, you can still enjoy the rest of the story.

 

***

 

When Tony finally logged in on the site, it was already eleven, and Metsie's last message was hours old.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** have you finished? 

**DamnThoseYankees:** how did it go?

 

Tony deliberated how to answer.  It wasn't that he was that heartbroken. He'd never really considered his online play partner as anything more than a temporary (maybe) friend, nor had he been nursing any secret hopes for the future with him. It was just that bringing Steve into the game had been a mistake. For Metsie, Captain America might be a random celebrity and a wet dream fodder, but to Tony he was a close friend he was trying not to think romantically about, and what happened today turned out to be a bit too much.

 

So yes, fine. He was a little heartbroken, but it wasn't anything new and merited no special attention.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** hey, sorry I didn’t answer sooner.

 **HanShotFirst:** it was a busy day.

 **DamnThoseYankees:** it’s okay. How did your speech go?

 **HanShotFirst:** it went fine.

 **DamnThoseYankees:** want me to help you relax? ;)

 

Tony’s fingers hesitated over the keyboard.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** listen, I think I’m not much for the game tonight. Totally wiped out.

 **HanShotFirst:** is that okay if we don’t do anything tonight?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** of course!

 **DamnThoseYankees:** we can chat a bit though

 **DamnThoseYankees:** unless you’re going straight to bed?

 **HanShotFirst:** yeah, sorry. I really think I’ll just turn in.

 **HanShotFirst:** I’ll talk to you tomorrow?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** sure thing :)

 **DamnThoseYankees:** rest well

 **HanShotFirst:** thank you

 **HanShotFirst:** and good night :)

 **DamnThoseYankees:** GN

 

*

 

The next day, the workday was so brutally packed with back to back meetings that he almost didn’t have time for breaks (which meant that coffee still appeared at his elbow but that wasn't the same as a proper break), and all he really wanted was to tinker in the workshop, which he did for the most of the following night. Steve or Metsie didn't even cross his mind, except for when he brutally brushed the thoughts away. And after work, he, again, made his excuses to Metsie.

 

The following day was even worse - yet again he had business meetings before and after the presentation in front of the board, and then to top of one of the crappiest days of the year, he had to sit in on a very tense meeting about relocating a part of one of SI factories. In the end, all the talks and strategizing couldn’t help a couple of hundred people from being let go. They’d be offered the option of relocating to work in some other facility and generous settlements in case they declined the move, but Tony still felt like crap.

 

That evening, despite feeling stirrings of arousal, he again, like a good 60’s housewife with a headache, begged off citing stress.

 

The third day though, despite being bone tired, his dick decided on an option number three: an unreasonable amount of anxious arousal.

 

It was annoying, because Tony didn’t want to be aroused, didn’t want to get back into playing if it didn’t mean the same to the Metsie as it meant to him, but he also didn’t want to abort it all and go back to his own lonesome. Somehow, he again felt like in any relationship he'd ever been in - a needy add-on who had to make sure he didn't act too clingy. And all that even without the benefit of actually being in a relationship.

 

Should he abort the whole arrangement? He couldn't imagine going back to the impersonal algorithm though and he certainly didn’t want to look for another dom (at this point it was silly to refer to him as merely a Key Holder). He had no illusions about finding someone he'd like as much as Metsie.

 

What Tony really wanted was a good satisfying hand-to-dick session, but he’d feel crappy if he didn’t safeword first, but he also didn't feel ready to talk about it (somehow he imagined that safewording would have to come with an explanation) or resume the regular play. But Tony really, really didn’t want to end their arrangement either.

 

When he logged in that night, he was still undecided of what to do.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I’m not gonna lie, I’ve been half-hard throughout the day

 **DamnThoseYankees:** yeah?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** that’s a nice hello

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I like the enthusiasm :)

 

Tony smiled sardonically.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** well I also don't really want to play

 

There was a pause.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** are you safewording?

 

Tony grimaced.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** no

 **HanShotFirst:** I don't know

 **HanShotFirst:** I’m sorry, I’ve had a crappy couple of days

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I'm sorry to hear that

 **DamnThoseYankees:** want to talk about it?

 **HanShotFirst:** not really

 

Tony stared at the screen.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** could you just please make me forget?

 

There was a pause again.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** sure

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I can do that

 **DamnThoseYankees:** though I’d rather you tell me what this is about

 **DamnThoseYankees:** maybe I can help?

 

Tony sighed. Yeah, Metsie would surely love to hear that his stupid little sub was getting clingy.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** no thank you

 **HanShotFirst:** I’ve already made up my mind about it

 **HanShotFirst:** there’s nothing anyone can do, I just have to push through

 

Despite the emotional conflict, three days was more than his body was used having between orgasms and Tony thought something should be done.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I am half-hard though, have been intermittently for most of the day

 **HanShotFirst:** was even thinking of safewording and just getting off

 **DamnThoseYankees:** why didn’t you?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I mean

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I’m glad you didn’t, but I’m curious about why

 **HanShotFirst:** I didn’t want to stop playing

 **HanShotFirst:** I also thought of just getting off without telling you, but that felt like cheating

 **DamnThoseYankees:** could've called yellow

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I won’t be upset if you need an out

 

Tony closed his eyes and for some inexplicable reason felt ashamed.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** and the truth is...

 **HanShotFirst:** I just couldn’t fathom the idea of touching myself when you told me not to

 

Tony had tried the night before, but his hand just plain didn’t rise to his cock. It was infuriating. How could someone Tony hadn’t even met have so much power over his actions?

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** so you really haven't touched yourself since the last time we played together?

 **HanShotFirst:** that

 **HanShotFirst:** is correct

 

Tony swallowed. Then the ‘DamnThoseYankees is typing’ started blinking and then it just… kept blinking. What could be taking him so long?

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** thank you

 **DamnThoseYankees:** if you needed to it would be fine but

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you have no idea how glad I am you didn’t

 **HanShotFirst:** yeah, well

 **HanShotFirst:** apparently it’s not what I wanted

 **DamnThoseYankees:** would it help if I told you that you won’t be coming tonight either?

 

Relief flooded Tony’s whole being. The prospect of the choice being taken from him made him felt tired and relaxed at the same time.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Would you?

 

‘Would you do that for me,’ he wanted to ask. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t actually come out and tell him he wanted that.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I would

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I would if it would please me

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I haven’t decided yet

 

The anxiety of what he should do, of what he wanted to do, fell away and for the first time in over three days Tony felt completely relaxed. _Thank you,_ Tony thought. Then he thought of what he should write. Something defiant, something that would sound strong, something-

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Thank you.

 

Something honest.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you say that but

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I never could have hoped for anyone to do what you’re doing for me

 **DamnThoseYankees:** give what you give me

 **DamnThoseYankees:** so thank you

 **DamnThoseYankees:** it really means a lot

 **DamnThoseYankees:** to me

 

The words covered Tony as if with a warm blanket and made him feel free.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Probably not as much as it means to me.

 

Probably he shouldn’t have written that. At right this moment though, Tony didn’t care.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I don’t know about that...

 **DamnThoseYankees:** but that’s not important right now

 **DamnThoseYankees:** did you eat dinner?

 

Tony smiled. Lately Metsie had caught up to the fact that Tony was rubbish at taking care of himself.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I’m not hungry

 **DamnThoseYankees:** that’s not what I asked

 **HanShotFirst:** no, no dinner, but i’m dead on my feet and would prefer to go to bed

 

He wasn’t sure why he just didn’t tell Metsie that he was going to bed and damn his opinion.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** uh huh

 **DamnThoseYankees:** when was the last time you ate a proper meal?

 

Damn him.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I had a business lunch

 **DamnThoseYankees:** okay

 **DamnThoseYankees:** here’s what I want you to do

 **DamnThoseYankees:** first, go to the kitchen

 **DamnThoseYankees:** heat up some leftovers, make a sandwich, whatever’s there

 **DamnThoseYankees:** don’t overdo it, but eat as much as you think you won’t feel guilty telling me about tomorrow

 **DamnThoseYankees:** a proper. meal. got it?

 **HanSheotFirst:** yes

 **DamnThoseYankees:** good

 **DamnThoseYankees:** then you can shower or make whatever preparations you need and go to bed

 

Tony drank the words in. _Okay. Yes, okay._ He could do that.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** do you understand?

 **HanShotFirst:** yes, I understand

 **DamnThoseYankees:** will you do that for me?

 

Tony drew in a deep breath and let it out.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** yes

 

_For you._

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I want you to sleep for at least six hours

 **DamnThoseYankees:** eight if possible

 **DamnThoseYankees:** can you do that?

 

Tony looked at the clock.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** yes, 7h should be doable

 **DamnThoseYankees:** good

 **DamnThoseYankees:** just one last thing

 **HanShotFirst:** yes?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** tell me when you’re going to touch yourself next

 

Tony shivered.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** when you tell me to

 

Tony was rock-hard. It felt glorious. He swallowed.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** that’s right

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I know what you need, Han

 **DamnThoseYankees:** just let me take care of you now

 **DamnThoseYankees:** how’s that sound?

 **HanShotFirst:** good

 **HanShotFirst:** thank you

 **DamnThoseYankees:** can you give me a colour?

 

Tony surprised himself with no hesitation.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** green

 **DamnThoseYankees:** very good

 **DamnThoseYankees:** thank you for trusting me

 **DamnThoseYankees:** sleep well

 **DamnThoseYankees:** talk to you tomorrow?

 **HanShotFirst:** yes

 **HanShotFirst:** good night

 

Tony logged off and put his laptop aside. Okay. Food.

 

“JARVIS, restock my personal kitchen.” He got up from the couch and stretched.

 

“Are you going to actually use the produce or will it just spoil again?”

 

Tony grimaced. “I’ll do my best to eat it?” he implored as he rechecked that yes, there was nothing in his kitchen that would qualify as a proper meal. _Damn_. The silence had stretched and to Tony it sounded rather judgemental.

 

“If you remind me?” Tony tried again.

 

“If you think that would help.”

 

Yeah, not judgemental at all. Tony gave up looking for his other shoe from under the table somewhere and padded barefoot to his private lift.

 

“What if I tell my dom to remind me?”

 

“In that case, I would be happy to restock your kitchen.”

 

Tony smiled. “Okay then. Thank you.”

 

*

 

Steve stared at the computer screen for a long time after the chat had finished, unable to quite parse what he was feeling - the warmth and the focus and the fullness in his chest - but unwilling to let the feeling slip away from him just yet.

 

The growling of his stomach was what roused him. Steve’s lips quirked in a smile. Unlike his negligent sub, Steve had eaten a full dinner, but the super soldier serum tended to burn through calories too fast for three meals a day to really cut it.

 

To his surprise, he found Tony in the kitchen when he arrived. To his still greater surprise, Tony was preparing a sandwich. That was… good. Tony never did eat enough.

 

Steve leaned against the doorjamb, watching Tony at work. There was something different about the man tonight, a slow, swimming grace to his motions, as if he were moving underwater. Watching him, Steve felt warmth, and a faint, almost proprietary satisfaction - crossed wires, no doubt, from his chat earlier this evening. Han and Tony were very alike in some ways, disregard for their own well-being being foremost among them. It was nice to see Tony cared for, even if Steve had to let Tony do it himself.

 

Of course, Tony being Tony, this interlude of self-care didn’t last long. Having finished his sandwich, Tony made a beeline for the coffee pot.

 

Steve spoke before he could stop himself.

 

“Should you really be doing that?”

 

Tony flinched, and Steve felt a little pang of guilt for not announcing his presence earlier.

 

“What’s it to you?” Tony’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet, almost a mumble. He glanced over his shoulder at Steve, but dropped his gaze almost immediately, fingers still hovering over the handle of the coffee pot.

 

Steve frowned. Tony was definitely acting strangely.

 

Then, incredibly, Tony withdrew his hand.

 

“Yeah,” he said on a sigh, still not looking at Steve, “you’re probably right.” He took his plate in hand and shuffled over to the kitchen table.

 

Steve blinked, surprise and pleasure spreading warmth through his veins. He cleared his throat.

 

“Bit late for dinner,” he said, and grimaced. That had come out wrong, like he was criticizing Tony for eating. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

 

Tony’s shoulders raised and lowered in a shrug. “I was told to eat,” he said, simply. “I’m eating.”

 

The words set off a small cascade of thoughts and feelings within Steve. Tony couldn’t possibly mean anything by it - certainly nothing like what Steve was imagining. Probably JARVIS had just reminded him, and Tony had, for once, decided to listen. Ridiculous to feel anything at all resembling jealousy. Still more ridiculous the sudden rush of heat as he imagined himself in JARVIS’s place, going down to the workshop in the middle of one of Tony’s days-long engineering benders, coming up behind Tony, laying a hand on his shoulder and another on his waist, bending down to murmur in his ear _,_ “ _Enough_.”

 

Ridiculous to imagine Tony leaning back against Steve’s chest, the tilt of his head baring the column of his throat, his eyes gone half-lidded and docile. “Let me take care of you,” Steve would say, and Tony would hum his pleasure and his acquiescence -

 

He needed to pull himself together. He could do that with Han. He didn’t have to project all these absurd and impossible fantasies onto Tony.

 

“Let me make you some hot chocolate,” he heard himself say.

 

So much for leaving well enough alone.

 

Tony tipped his head to one side. His eyes still didn’t meet Steve’s, but there was something like a smile hovering around the corners of his mouth.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Okay.”

 

It felt wrong - vaguely adulterous - to stand there in the kitchen and heat the milk and chocolate on the stove, to refill Tony’s water glass and fetch Tony a napkin. He promised himself he would find some way to make it up to Han, to make up for the arousal burning low in his gut, and, still worse the sense of peace and purpose that caring for Tony gave him, even stronger than what he had felt when he gave Han his instructions not even an hour before.

 

He didn’t understand why Tony - prickly, independent, ever ready to bite the hand that fed - was letting Steve do all this for him, but he didn’t dare to ask - didn’t do anything that might break the spell that seemed to have settled over the kitchen. Steve led what little conversation there was, Tony answering him in hums and monosyllables. Tony’s hair was tousled and Steve’s fingers itched to comb it.

 

When he brought Tony his chocolate, Tony finally glanced up at him. Just for a moment, but there was such warmth and gratitude in his hazy dark eyes that Steve had been unable to resist reaching out and resting a hand on Tony’s shoulder, thumb sweeping a caress against the back of Tony’s neck.

 

A moment later, he recollected himself and withdrew.

 

“I’ll leave you to it,” he muttered, shame-faced, and fled back upstairs, not stopping to look behind him.

 

He had his jeans unbuttoned by the time he unlocked his apartment door. When he came, it was to the memory of the way Tony had pressed back into his touch.

 

Panting, he reached for the tissues to clean himself up. This had to stop. Tonight had been a dream, and like a dream, once over it would vanish, leaving nothing but memory, no trace discernable in the waking world.

 

Whatever had gotten hold of Tony tonight, it was unlikely to happen again. Steve had to accept that. He needed to get over his fixation, to focus on the man who actually wanted his care. His care and, perhaps (or so Steve had begun to hope, before his encounter with Tony threw him so badly off the rails) even his affection. He had Han now.

 

That would have to be enough.

  


*

 

Tony should've taken his sandwich and high-tailed out of there, but no. Instead, he'd sat there like a schmuck and let himself be taken care of. Drank Cap’s chocolate like a good boy and was only now realizing why that'd felt so wrong (even though it also felt incredibly right). On the one hand, a soothing, calming, but powerful feeling of contentment and peace like a tide rolling over the land, had overcome him. On the other hand, at the back of his head there was this strange inkling that something was wrong, that he shouldn’t enjoy or even accept it, because it wasn’t Steve that had told Tony to eat, it wasn’t Steve who was taking care of him, it wasn’t Steve who _wanted_ to take care of him. At least not him specifically. Steve was just… Tony swallowed back his resentment. Steve liked taking care of everyone, it didn’t make Tony special when Steve helped him, it just made him _feel_ as if he was.

 

But it was a lie.

 

Because however much he would’ve liked to read something into it, Steve was just his good friend and Tony had sat there with his hard-on and enjoyed every glance and every word and soaking up every scrap of attention he could get.

 

And then Steve had touched him. Accidentally, but it had happened and Tony still got shivers every time he closed his eyes and relived the bliss of how it had felt.

 

It was yet again another reason why he should never meet Metsie. He’d want to be good to him, but given how hung up on Steve he still was, it might feel as if he were cheating. Hell, in a way he _was_ cheating. But in reality, there was nothing between him and Steve, nor was a cyber relationship a real thing, so he shrugged it off and went to wash up and find himself some pyjama pants.

 

When Tony lay down he was still weirdly keyed up. The contentment that he’d felt after logging off was now tainted by Steve’s unwitting interference and Tony seemed to be unable to settle down. Tony blamed the touch that had electrified his cock, but not in a good way. He felt restless: he tossed and turned without finding a comfortable position. The place where his skin had touched Steve’s burned. His cock ached. It wasn’t supposed to be this way! Metsie had calmed him down, Tony had been content and happy, but now that was all ruined.

 

Without really thinking it through, he turned on his tablet and logged onto the site, but Metsie was, of course, offline. He was just about to log off when he saw a new direct message notice popping up. Tony’s heart rate picked up a bit.

 

_Good morning, Han. If you’ve managed food and 7h of sleep as promised, you may treat yourself to a nice quick orgasm. Enjoy! :)_

 

Shit! Tony’s heart rate tripled. He was going to come, he had permission to come, in seven hours it was going to feel amazing- he had to fall asleep right the fuck now! Feeling ridiculous, too anxious to fall asleep, with a promise of release if he did, Tony was staring at the ceiling, his fists gripping the sheets, his cock pulsing and even a bead of pre-come soaking up his pajama pants.

 

“Aarrgh! Fuck! “ he yelled. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

 

He sat up, buried his face in his hands and thought of safewording again.

 

“No.” He rubbed his face. “No, I'm not doing that.”

 

For some reason he couldn’t bear the thought of disappointing his dom.  And he knew that they all said that they wouldn’t be disappointed, but there was no way that it could be true. No way.

 

Tony got up and went into his dressing room, pulled out his toy box and found a dice with odd numbers up to thirty. Rolled it once and got seventeen. Then he sorted through his restraints and took everything he needed to his bed.

 

First he put on leg and wrist cuffs (very comfortable soft leather with short-hair fur lining), then using a bit of rope fastened his leg cuffs to the footboard so that they were shoulder-width apart, attached a piece of rope to one wrist cuff and pulled it under his thighs near the buttocks, put on a blindfold, lied down, pulled up his blanket and attached the other wrist cuff to the piece of rope with a carabinier.

 

He’d long perfected the technique, knowing exactly how long which piece should be. Generally, self-bondage was soothing, but it was no guarantee that he’d fall asleep quickly. He’d give it his best try though.

 

“JARVIS, monitor the vitals and mark down when I fall asleep.”

 

“Very well, sir.”

 

“Wake me at half past seven or a bit later if there's just a little time until the seven-hour mark.”

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

Tony closed his eyes and started his calming breathing exercises.

 

His cock throbbed.

 

*

 

When Jarvis woke him, he’d got just over seven hours of sleep and Tony grinned. Without removing his blindfold he stretched, pulled a bit at his restraints and enjoyed the ache in his taut muscles. Then he tried to reach his cock with his left hand but predictably there wasn’t enough give.

 

Tony moaned.

 

He caressed his thighs and belly wherever he could reach and since he didn’t have a lot of time he didn’t hesitate to lift his hips to slip his right hand under himself just far enough so that he could reach his cock with the fingertips of his left hand. The first touch was heaven: he teased his length, caressed the head. He repeated it seventeen times. By the end it had gone past agonizing straight through to annoying, but it was still rock hard when he moved his right hand further under himself so that he could grip his cock with his left.

 

_Oh god, finally!_

 

He groaned and shivered. It felt like he hadn’t touched himself in _weeks_. He stroked himself lightly up and down, circling over the head with his index finger. Seventeen.

 

“Fuck.”

 

He gave himself sixteen more light strokes, then increased the pressure and tempo and moved his hand seventeen times up and down. When he finished that, he was panting and moaning; legs moving of their own volition, his head thrown back. Seventeen more strokes brought him to the edge and held him there, but only after the seventeenth did he let himself fall over.

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you notice that I posted early? ;) Unfortunately, that can't happen next time, sorry. :( Next update is on Wednesday and it's difficult during the week.
> 
> Let me know how you liked it?  
> Because comments are love <3


	5. JARVIS, kill the cams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this chapter is late, but I had both my kids catch a stomach bug and it's day 6 of playing nursemaid for me. :(  
> I really tried getting it out earlier, but that was best I could do. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. It's 6k of smutty emotional goodness and also, this chapter has the scene that popped into my head first and why this story even exists. *And* it's one more step towards The Reveal! Du-du-dum-du-dum!! :D

  
*o*O*o*

 

 

The next couple of days Tony, again, walked on clouds. It was slightly different from before though - now he didn’t harbour any illusions about it helping him in getting over Steve. Apparently, nothing would ever help him get over Steve, but from the moment he’d finally acknowledged it, it was easier to enjoy both - his friendship with Steve and cybersex with Metsie. Clean lines between friendship and romantic love and clean lines between real life and online games.

 

At least until that conversation.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** there's something I’ve been wanting to ask you about

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I don’t know if this is crossing a line

 **DamnThoseYankees:** and I don’t want to violate your privacy

 **DamnThoseYankees:** so feel free to shut me down at any point

 

Tony frowned. He’d know if he’d been hacked, JARVIS was also keeping an eye on the guy. Had he given himself away somehow? No, he couldn't have. With a trepidation, Tony typed:

 

 **HanShotFirst:** what is it?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you remember some time ago you mentioned that firefighter event?

 

 _Shit_.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** yes?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** was it the one Maria Stark Foundation organised?

 

_Shitshitshit._

 

He had given himself away! _Fuck! No. Calm the fuck down._ He was asking about the event, not him.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** because a friend of mine went to that benefit

 **DamnThoseYankees:** and I could’ve easily gone too

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I mean, I’ve been to a lot of these kinds of things before

 

Okay. Tony closed his eyes. Okay, Metsie didn’t know his identity, but JARVIS was right! It was someone at SI. Or Maria Stark Foundation. Or…

 

Tony felt distinctly hot under the collar and it wasn’t just panic. It was… rather little panic, considering. So they might have met at one of these things. So what? Tony put his face into his hands and rubbed it.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed, his blanket response to all sorts of emotions. It didn't mean anything. _Come on, Tony. Ignore it._ So they might have met, so what? Yeah, it wasn't panic all right. It was something considerably more dangerous. Tony cursed himself again. He couldn’t meet Metsie. He really, really couldn’t.

 

He looked back at the screen.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** Han?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I’m sorry, I know I’ve probably thrown you for a loop

 **DamnThoseYankees:** feel free to ignore everything I just said

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I shouldn’t have asked

 

Tony watched as ‘DamnThoseYankees is typing’ kept blinking and just to shut the poor guy up, interrupted.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Don't worry about it.

 **HanShotFirst:** I don't go to these kind of things that often

 **HanShotFirst:** not anymore, I mean

 

He added that last bit to be honest. And what was it about Metsie that made Tony just stop fibbing and drop all his masks?

 

 **HanShotFirst:** but it's probably better if we don't talk about the places we go to any more

 **DamnThoseYankees:** yes, of course

 **DamnThoseYankees:** sorry I brought it up

 **DamnThoseYankees:** it won't happen again

 **HanShotFirst:** yeah, no worries

 

But after that, Tony started thinking. Daydreaming about terrible and dangerous things. The next time he was at an SI event all he could think about was the possibility of Metsie being there. Was he a consultant perhaps? That was the closest to being on call Tony could imagine at SI. The other thing he couldn’t stop thinking about was the possible ways he and Metsie could play together in real life without knowing who the other player was. At some event maybe? Or on a date they agreed to when they were both in the SI building? It was a dangerous line of thought, but his brain refused to cease and desist once he started thinking about it, even if he had no intention of actually implementing the plans he came up with.

 

Regardless, modifying the remote to his anal vibrator was child's play even after a long day at the office and several hours long workshop bender while running on fumes.

 

*

 

For a while he managed to forget about it, but only because SHIELD sent Steve on a stealth operation with Nat and Clint. Steve! On a stealth operation! Tony had volunteered to go with, but for a second everyone just stared at him (and yeah, okay, so he had an unforgettable face, was that a crime?) and Steve said, “I want you on communication and intel.” Which, Tony supposed, was fair because no one would do it better than him.

 

At first it was going swimmingly and Tony was awesome, and as far as he could tell everyone else was too, but on the third day, they went dark. It wasn't unexpected and Nat had warned him that it was likely to happen on this type of operation, but it didn't negate the fact that, as he was on communications, he was suddenly utterly useless.

 

Of course he worried, which for him meant hacking into SHIELD to sort through reports of similar operations and making a spreadsheet of their success rates. It turned out that going dark was indeed a precaution that didn't automatically mean that something was wrong. Keeping track of criminal, military and simply violent activity in the area his team was in, was part of his duties anyway. After worrying for almost forty-eight hours he finally remembered to check if Metsie had managed to message him, but there was only the one that he’d received a couple of days ago.

 

**_-So, I'm going on a week-long retreat for work, and I'm not going to really have the time or privacy to chat. I think the reception's pretty lousy too. But I want you to take care of yourself for me while I'm gone. I'll be checking in to make sure when I get back. :)_ **

 

The letter made him smile again because that was Metsie’s way to discreetly remind him that he got one orgasm a night only if he managed three square meals that day and at least six hours of sleep the night before. It also got some parts of his anatomy more interested than the rest of him.

 

Yeah, it got him going, but because of the whole damn SHIELD mission going on, he’d only nibbled on pastries and hadn’t really slept. Now he had to manage a proper dinner, go to sleep and eat twice more.

 

“But I can't go to sleep,” he told JARVIS, as he was stuffing his face with the takeaway he had delivered straight to the workshop he'd been vegetating in. “What if they need me?”

 

“Should that happen, I'll wake you up straight away, sir.”

 

“Yeah, but-”

 

“I will also notify you if there is any suspicious activity in the area.”

 

“And-”

 

“With all due respect, sir, if you don't go to sleep now, soon you won't be able to recognize a situation should it arise.”

 

Tony huffed, but went to wash up.

 

*

 

When he got up in the morning, the situation was unchanged and Tony well-rested. He also had a delicious morning wood, which he still had no right to touch, so he got rid of it under a cold shower. Curiously, he felt more satisfied from doing the right thing than he usually felt after an orgasm. Then he delved into after-action reports, thought about what Metsie would do with him if he managed to come online that night and tried to ignore his recurring source of agony and thrill. In the moments his erection appeared he desperately wished that he could at least pat or squeeze it or something, but Metsie had been adamant - if it’s off limits, then it’s off limits. Sometimes when Tony asked, Metsie allowed him to caress it for a few minutes during the day, but now that he was offline, Tony had no option but to endure. It was a sweet torture.

 

Another thing Tony determinedly didn't think about was Steve and what he could be doing. Was he safe, were everyone together or had they split up? Had stage two of the plan been accomplished? When would they be in contact?

 

At four in the afternoon, Widow finally came online and reported success. Even though it would take them a day of hiking to reach the pick-up point, Tony relaxed and treated himself to a nice long tease and an orgasm.

 

That evening Metsie was still offline. Tony sent him, ‘I miss you’ and told himself it wasn't because Steve was still out of the country.

*

 

It was only a week after that that Tony finally gave in. In his defense, he'd just come after a rigorous and thorough ‘workup’ and was chock-full of postcoital hormones. And he'd been thinking about it for almost three weeks.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** so I've got this plug with a remote

 

There was a silence from the other end and Tony ploughed straight on.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** amazing reach, almost two miles

 **HanShotFirst:** unique low frequency that won't interfere with any other technology and is undetectable unless you know exactly what you're looking for

 

Tony held his breath.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** why are you telling me this?

 

Tony swallowed.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I have an event

 **HanShotFirst:** tomorrow

 

He'd left that late, he knew that. People usually had plans, and if they didn't have plans, they probably couldn't get these tickets on such a short notice unless they were really well connected or really wealthy. And due to the curious coincidence with the timing of Metsie’s ‘retreat’ and the mission Steve went on, Tony was half ready to believe that Metsie was actually a SHIELD agent. In that case, Metsie probably wouldn’t be able to come.

 

So yeah, he’d left it late, because he was as afraid of Metsie agreeing to his crazy plan as he was hoping that he wouldn’t. Except that he hadn't really left it too late, because he wasn't planning on talking about that in the first place. Except for the part of him that obviously had. Tony cursed his duplicitous strategizing mind.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** yeah?

 

He wasn't going to make this easy. Not that Tony could blame him, the way he'd shut Metsie down the last time.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** yeah

 **HanShotFirst:** I just thought that we could play

 **HanShotFirst:** if you were there

 

There was a bit of a delay while Metsie typed, deleted and started typing again.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I thought you wanted to be discreet?

 **HanShotFirst:** oh, I do

 **HanShotFirst:** I'm sorry, I'm not explaining this very well

 **HanShotFirst:** I just meant

 **HanShotFirst:** I know that building

 

Tony felt himself going hot under the collar.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I could leave you the remote

 **HanShotFirst:** and we could chat online

 **HanShotFirst:** during

 

There. He'd said it. It was out of his hands now.

 

The silence was dragging on. Metsie wasn't even typing. _Shit._ He wasn't... It was too much. Why had Tony even assumed-?

 

 **HanShotFirst:** unless you're not in NY

 **HanShotFirst:** and you probably already have plans, right?

 **HanShotFirst:** I mean, I usually have these things planned several months ahead

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I can be there

 

For a moment Tony stopped breathing.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I'm in NY

 **DamnThoseYankees:** don't have plans

 **HanShotFirst:** tickets?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** not a problem

 **DamnThoseYankees:** at least

 **DamnThoseYankees:** is this the Blackwell scholarship fundraiser?

 

_Oh._

 

 **HanShotFirst:** yes

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I’ll be there

 

He probably already had tickets. Probably not SHIELD then. SI? Maybe he was both? But how could it be? Shit! _Coulson?_ _No! Oh, god, no_ , Tony thought just as he remembered that JARVIS confirmed Metsie’s age as 28. Some other liaison? Were there any others? In any case, it was still getting pretty likely that they knew each other or had at least seen each other around. And it was entirely possible that Nat and Clint knew at least _of_ him. Could he ask them? _Fuck. Shit. Damn._

 

“JARVIS, I’m making a mistake, aren’t I?”

 

“At this point, I honestly can’t say, sir,” JARVIS said and Tony could hear the worry in his voice.

 

*

 

That night, Steve couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about the plug and remote situation. The planned game sounded like something out of a dream. Magical. He couldn’t wait! But even more than that he kept thinking of the fact that tomorrow night he would be in the same building as Han. The same venue. The same room at some point; for the dinner and the speeches, at least.

 

And he’d have the remote.

 

A vicious wave of want almost shook his body, as he lay in his bed, hugging the pillow. He turned onto his back and unseeing, stared at the ceiling.

 

Tomorrow.

 

*

 

The lift doors opened and Tony stepped out.

 

“Tony,” Steve greeted him, smiling. “I decided to come along after all. I hope you don't mind.” He was leaning against the door of the classic Bentley in which Happy was already sitting.

 

“Yeah, that would be… fine.” He cleared his throat, looking at the perfection in a dark blue suit in front of him. For some mysterious reason (here Tony heard his own voice hysterically cackling in his head) the excitement of the plug in his ass suddenly doubled.

 

Steve frowned. “I'm sorry, if it's inconvenient, I can make my own arrangements-”

 

“No, no. Not inconvenient at all, I was just surprised.”

 

He made it to the car and with a smile opened the door for Steve so that he’d sit to Tony’s right. In his left ear, Tony had an earpiece for the application he wrote and installed on his phone that would read him Metsie’s messages. The app also had a speech to text feature.

 

“Are we picking up anyone else?” Steve asked.

 

“No, it's just the two of us.”

 

Tony was sufficiently aroused already, so the usual guilt over the pleasure he felt in Steve’s presence, didn't materialize. Sitting in the car with a butt plug up his ass was an adventure all on its own, but doing that next to Steve Rogers, who in his understated way radiated happiness and excitement, was something else entirely. But -  Tony fought to suppress a frown.

 

Why was Steve trying to hold back a smile like that? It almost seemed like- No. But Steve had suddenly changed his mind about attending, hadn’t he? Had he met someone? Was he hoping to meet that someone at the fundraiser? And just like that he felt the anticipatory rush turn into ash in his mouth as he stared out of the window without actually seeing anything.

 

After a while Steve turned to him. “Exactly how much coffee did you drink?”

 

Tony grinned, but his face felt like it was made of cheap rubber. “Too much, apparently.”

 

Steve smiled. “I can see that. Did you at least sleep or have you been in the workshop since I last saw you there?”

 

Which would make it… just over thirty-eight hours? Tony shrugged.

 

“I've been to bed, don't worry.”

 

Technically, he didn’t need to leave the workshop to chat with Metsie, but since more often than not he got a good orgasm out if it, as a rule, he preferred to chat from his bed, so in general, he was sleeping better than before their arrangement.

 

Steve raised his eyebrows. “But did you sleep?”

 

“I honestly did my best,” he said, squirming slightly, the plug in his ass feeling like a foreign object now instead of a pleasure toy.

 

The truth was, he'd been too excited to sleep much last night. _Right. That's what I should be thinking of. It doesn’t matter if Steve’s meeting someone or not._

 

Despite the discomfort, there was no pain and he felt his cock stiffening as the plug pressed into the firm leather seat when he moved. _Metsie will be there, giving you what he wants, when he wants it and there's nothing you can do about it; just keep thinking of that, Stark._ He glanced over at Steve and his cock hardened even more: the blond’s disapproving but concerned face was doing _things_ to Tony.

 

For a moment Tony wished fiercely that Steve was the one he could give his remote to. Wished Steve would want to have it, would be proud to have it, which sounded ridiculous, but that's how he felt. He wished that Steve would put a hand on Tony's thigh and squeeze, say that he would take care of him and not to worry; tell him that they'd enjoy this fundraiser and when they'd go home Steve would take him apart only to put him back together again. Tony shivered.

 

“You all right?” Steve was watching him carefully. “You’re not hiding any injuries again, are you?”

 

“No!” Tony’s gut tightened. Mercilessly, he pushed away his useless daydreams and concentrated on the present: the feeling in his ass and the fact that very soon he'd have very little control over what was going on down there. “No, no injuries, I promise! Just…” Tony tried to think of an excuse to all the fidgeting which made him fidget all the more, which in turn made him more and more aroused. “Can’t sit still. You know me. Too much coffee and too little sleep, the usual.” He shrugged self-deprecatingly, but now all his skin seemed to be sensitized. He was getting too aroused, dammit, and Metsie might not even be online yet. His fingers were itching for his phone.

 

“Are you sure you’re all right, Tony?”

 

“Sure, Cap. No need to worry over little ol’ me, you know that.” He smiled and this time, he was sure it looked more genuine.

 

“Okay. But you’re going to get a full night’s sleep after the fundraiser, right?”

 

Tony thought of the wonderfully exhausted mess he was hopefully going to be by the end of the night and smiled.

 

“I’m pretty sure I can promise you that, Cap.”

 

When he looked at Steve again, the other man's face was unreadable and Tony decided to put the conversation out of his mind.

 

He took out his phone. Predictably, Metsie was offline, which was fine - they’d agreed on an hour later - but Tony still felt the need to share.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** The plug against the firm car seat makes for an interesting sensation.

 **HanShotFirst:** I keep getting hard

 **HanShotFirst:** are you excited too?

 

Soon, they were out of the car and Tony put his game face on. Halfway up the stairs all his maudlin feelings simply evaporated, mainly due to the fact that keeping the plug in while ascending stairs was another novel sensation that made his lips stretch into a natural little smile. The thought of the remote in a small box in his jacket pocket helped too.

 

The first wave of mingling was always the worst, so it was almost half an hour later when Tony finally managed to exit into the hall and head to the restroom. He took out his phone on the way.

 

“JARVIS, kill the cams.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

He checked his phone.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** yes, but I can’t talk yet

 **DamnThoseYankees:** are you here?

 **HanShotFirst:** I’m here

 **HanShotFirst:** Damn I want to turn it on

 **HanShotFirst:** Can I turn it on?

 

He reached the restroom before he got an answer, so that was probably a no-go. Tony sighed and removed the cling off the adhesive tape on the side of a small box. The colour of the box was a close match to the colour of the stall wall, so when he attached it into the upper corner of the left wall, it looked like it was supposed to be there.

 

He checked the phone only after he was back in the main hall.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** no, you definitely can’t turn it on

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you only get what I give you

 **DamnThoseYankees:** and if I decide to only turn it on after the dancing starts, then that’s what I’ll do

 

 _Oh, fuck!_ He’d totally forgot about the dancing.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Please, not during the dancing

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you dance?

 **DamnThoseYankees:** should've figured

 **HanShotFirst:** sometimes it’s necessary

 

He refrained from telling Metsie that he usually danced most of the night. He wasn’t sure if he could tonight. But if he didn't, then Steve would surely conclude that he _was_ hiding an injury…

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** good luck with that tonight then ;)

 **HanShotFirst:** Thank you

 **HanShotFirst:** That was sarcasm btw

 **DamnThoseYankees:** yeah, got it :)

 **DamnThoseYankees:** by the way, I meant to say something

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you don't actually have to go through with it

 

Tony's heart constricted. Metsie was giving him an out. Even though Tony had no intention of using it, it meant a lot.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I’d love to play with you

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you know I would

 

He didn't let Metsie continue.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Go to the restroom on the left from the main hall

 **HanShotFirst:** Stall on the left

 **HanShotFirst:** There’s a small box in the left upper corner

 **HanShotFirst:** It's my gift for you

 

There was a very short pause.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** thank you, Han

 **DamnThoseYankees:** you can't even begin to guess what this means to me

 

Tony wasn’t sure how to reply to that without being obvious that he had started developing feelings for Metsie, a person he barely knew. The mere idea was so foolish on so many levels, he didn't even want to think about it; letting Metsie know was out of the question.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** is it safe to collect now?

 

Damn, did he have to be so thoughtful, too?

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Yes, I'm nowhere near

 

Or maybe he was just careful about not showing himself? If so, it was only natural. Tony blinked at seeing Steve shooting past him at a slightly faster pace than socially acceptable. Tony squashed the twinge of jealousy at the giddy smile Steve seemed to be trying to suppress and looked down at his phone.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** going now, but we're not going to start right away

 **DamnThoseYankees:** I want you to squirm for a bit first

 

Tony swallowed.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** Okay

 

That was good. He had time. To mingle. Because he _lov-_

 

He almost stumbled.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** surprise ;)

 

“Fuck,” Tony muttered.

 

He looked around.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** color?

 **HanShotFirst:** Green

 

The intensity went up by two notches. Tony grabbed the edge of the drinks table.

 

“App activation,” Tony said quietly.

 

“And now? Semicolon, closing bracket,” Tony heard in his ear and vowed to teach the blasted app to read smilies.

 

The vibration shut off and Tony sucked in a deep breath.

 

“Better, thanks,” Tony said, knowing that the app was converting his words into text.

 

He was so, so hard. Thank fuck he’d wore a dance belt to conceal his erection.

 

“I wanted to surprise you,”  the synthetic voice said in his ear.

 

“You succeeded, you bastard. I am so fucking hard right now,” he muttered and vaguely gestured to the bartender.

 

“You were typing so I assumed you weren't talking to anyone.”

 

“You assumed right.”

 

The bartender nodded and handed him a glass. Tony took it and stepped away from the table.

 

Metsie kept talking. “I'm glad. Now, you have five minutes and then I'll turn it on. As long as it's on, you have to talk to people. Walk away if you need to, but let me know immediately. You can type R for red if you need it to stop. Questions?”

 

“No.”

 

“Good. Go.”

 

Tony nodded to himself and deactivated the app. Soon, the vibration started up again at what felt like the lowest setting and for a minute Tony just walked around to get used to it. It felt exhilarating, but after the high intensity, it was manageable. Good.

 

“Tony!”

 

Tony turned to see a friend of his father's appear from the left. The man took Tony by the elbow and started jabbering about something. Something Tony thankfully had a pretty good idea about, because Mr Martin always talked about his wife and his health and how stupid Republicans were being again. Tony smiled and nodded and thought about the fact that Metsie was somewhere in the building, maybe even in the same room…

 

The vibrations stopped.

 

He inhaled sharply. “Yeah. It was lovely seeing you again, Mr Martin. Give my love to your wife.”

 

Tony's first reaction had been relief, but only a minute later he felt the itch to touch himself or do anything to get the arousing feeling back. _Damn._ He clenched his muscles around the plug, but it didn’t help much. He was just thinking of asking Metsie for more when his phone buzzed.

 

 **DamnThoseYankees:** How’s it going?

 

Tony activated the app.

 

“Peachy.” He held his breath, but the next moment gave in. “I need it back. Please?”

 

“Well, since you ask so nicely... Go mingle. Semicolon, closing bracket.”

 

The plug started vibrating and it was all Tony could do not to shiver too obviously. The intensity was on a higher level now and for the first few seconds Tony just stood there. _I can’t do it. I can’t talk to people like this._ He had to talk to someone.   _Oh, a smile!_ He smiled back only to realise that he’d just opened himself up to a small talk with a total stranger. On the other hand, he didn’t give a rat’s ass if he offended the guy, so he just exchanged a couple of (hopefully) polite sentences and walked away. More than anything, Tony wanted to go back to the bathroom and press his hand to his crotch to relieve the impossibly delicious ache. But he couldn’t. Oh fuck, he couldn’t. Through a haze of pleasure he chatted with people, and smiled like a loon. He was pretty sure people thought he was drunk, which might even be true. Drunk on endorphins at least.

 

The buzzing got more intense and, almost stumbling, Tony turned towards the terrace, hoping that fresh air would help to clear his head. Before he even got to the doors, a wall suddenly appeared in front of him and Tony stumbled.

 

“Tony!” Steve exclaimed, grinning.

 

Electricity shot through Tony’s body as Steve grabbed him by the arms to steady him.

 

“Steve!” Tony grinned back. “How’s it going? Bid on anything yet?” he asked, because that was what other people had been asking him.

 

“No, I haven’t had the chance yet.”

 

Steve let him go and Tony almost swayed back towards him. Abruptly, the buzzing dropped to its lowest setting and Tony almost didn’t feel it in comparison. Even though the last time the vibrator was turned off, he’d wished it back immediately, this time he felt immensely grateful for the reprieve.

 

The haze clearing off of the edges of his gaze, Tony took a good look at his friend. Steve was smiling radiantly and, despite still feeling giddy, Tony felt a coil of sadness wrapping around his heart. The evening seemed to be going well for Steve, and even though he should be glad for it (Steve so often felt out of place at these events), Tony still felt as if some kind of nameless distance was growing between them. Slowly, but surely, any possibility of Steve and him being together was slipping through his fingers and wasn’t that a foolish thought? Any kind of relationship, that was more than what they already shared, had always been an impossibility, and yet, seeing him so happy, as if on a cusp of a new relationship, hurt.

 

“Yeah, I haven’t had the chance to look into it eith-” The vibration cranked up through what felt like several levels to the highest setting yet and stayed there for three long seconds. Tony’s anus clenched, his muscles locked and relaxed again, and as the intensity went back down to the base level, he exhaled with a whoosh. “Either,” he finished.

 

Steve asked something.

 

The vibrations increased incrementally.

 

“Yes. Fine,” Tony agreed, hoping his answer made sense. “Well, you know what they say… right?”

 

“Tony? Are you alright?”

 

Tony blinked and looked back at Steve. “Yeah?”

 

 _Crap._ Steve was watching him with concern, his brows drawn together in a worried line. The plug suddenly shut off and Tony relaxed.

 

“Yeah, I’m totally fine. Why?” He smiled.

 

“You look… Not fine. Are you…?”

 

It was obvious, what Steve was trying to ask, so Tony cut him off. “I’m not drunk,” he said bluntly.

 

Slowly, Steve nodded. “Do you need to go though?”

 

 _Yes. Yes, Steve, take me away and touch me inappropriately in the car._ The thought came unbidden and Tony struggled to keep his face uncomplicatedly friendly. “I’ll just…” He gestured to something on the right and started to turn away, when he felt a hand holding onto his arm.

 

“Tony, wait,” Steve said.

 

He wanted to turn back and look at Steve, but he was frozen, his reality focusing on that one small point of contact. “Yeah?” His voice sounded as if from somewhere far away.

 

“I just... Do you have a minute? I just wanted to ask your advice. About someone. Someone I… met recently.”

 

Tony’s inhale was shaky. There was no way he could stand here and listen to Steve talk about his… whoever. He simply couldn’t. Not right at this moment.

 

“Yeah, sure, sure,” he said, stepping away. Steve’s hand slipped from his arm, leaving it cold and bereft. “But later, okay?”

 

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t mean right now.”

 

Tony walked as fast as social decorum allowed him, he could still feel the phantom warmth on his arm. Steve was interested in someone. So what? It wasn’t new information, but it still churned inside him up until dinner and speeches, despite the low level of constant arousal.

 

The dinner was predictable, his table companions dull.  Metsie allowed him only light buzzing, but he never knew when it would turn on or off, so it spiced things up. At least at first. What Tony really started to hate were the times that the plug was turned off, because his body had apparently accustomed to a certain level of arousal, so when it was off, Tony really felt that something was missing. He struggled with not touching himself and it was making him short-tempered. Thank fuck that the people right next to him weren’t people whose opinions he cared about and Steve was at another table to his left.

 

During the speeches though, Metsie really went all out. Initially, he left the vibration on the lowest setting, but every time a speaker said ‘and’, he upped the intensity for three seconds. When ‘education’ was mentioned the intensity increased drastically, and during applauds the intensity jumped straight to what Tony guessed was the highest level and it held right until the last claps faded out.

 

“Can you guess which words give you what?” Tony heard in his ear between the speeches.

 

He typed the answer on his phone himself, since muttering under his breath wasn’t the most attractive habit he cared to demonstrate to his table companions. Well, they didn’t think much of him texting either, but at least he seemed rude, not crazy.

 

By the time the speeches ended, his fists were white-knuckled in his lap and it was difficult to type.

 

 **HanShotFirst:** I need to get off. Now

 **HanShotFirst:** Please

 

Tony stared at the screen, his left fist rubbing circles on his thigh, but the reply he was waiting for still wasn’t lighting up the screen. One minute. Two. The mediocre buzz was driving him crazy with its inefficiency. Three minutes. Inside his mouth Tony was gnawing on his cheek, his stuffed hole was clenching, and his stiff cock was throbbing between the torturously tight dance belt and his lower belly. Five minutes in, there was still no answer and, almost angry, Tony stood up and made himself walk calmly towards the drinks table. He must have failed to school his expression into polite complacency though, because a couple of people got hastily out of his way, looking at him with startled expressions. Tony didn’t care. With trembling fingers, he took a glass of champagne and just as he was lifting it to his lips, the buzz intensified, his stomach muscles tightened, and for an awful moment his hips almost bucked while his right hand made an aborted movement towards his crotch. Tony set the glass down and heavily leaned on the edge of the table.

 

“No,” he heard his app suddenly enunciate in his ear. “No getting off yet. But you can go to the restrooms to play with yourself a bit if you really want. If you do though, you aren’t coming tonight at all. Your choice.”

 

“Fuck,” Tony cursed.

 

“What was that, Mr Stark?” came a voice from next to him.

 

“Nothing.” He turned to look for the nearest exit. “Excuse me.”

 

He made it out of the room and found a study in the other wing of the mansion which at this moment was empty. After closing the door, he activated the speech to text feature and said, “I can’t breathe, my hands are shaking and legs trembling. People around me are morons. Please, may I come now?” There was no immediate reply so he continued, “I promise to be your obedient chaste bitch for however long you want straight after.”

 

“Profanity aside, you’ll do exactly what I want regardless. Isn't that right?”

 

Tony’s breath hitched and a shiver ran down his spine. Something about the impersonal mechanical speech made the response even more arousing. Slowly, he walked deeper into the room and stopped to look out the window.

 

“Yes.” He leaned his hands on the windowsill, lowered his head and tried to slow his breathing. _Yes, I will, damn you._

 

“Did you like the speeches?”

 

Tony chuckled. “Yes, I fucking liked the speeches. Speeches were fucking spectacular.”

 

“You’re swearing a lot. Are you trying to tell me something?”

 

“Yes, you fucking bastard. There’s a slight possibility I might be trying to tell you something. Any idea what?”

 

“Hmmm. You do seem awfully worked up. Still, I really don’t think I can let you get away with that kind of language.  Can you go somewhere more private?”

 

In anticipation, Tony closed his eyes. “I’m alone for now.”

 

“Don’t touch yourself and don’t come.”

 

Tony frowned, but the next moment the intensity of the plug increased twice, then three times and then reached a high Tony hadn’t experienced yet. He whimpered.

 

“How's that for edging?”

 

Tony moaned, but made a concentrated effort to stop. There was a brief pause.

 

“Color?” Metsie asked.

 

“Green,” Tony pressed through clenched teeth.

 

“Tell me if you get close or need to stop.”

 

“Fine,” he grunted.

 

He needed to feel something against his dick. Any pressure. Anything at all. But his treacherous hands were still holding onto the low windowsill instead of touching his dick. Tony hated his hands; why were they obeying Metsie, and not doing what Tony needed?

 

“Please,” Tony murmured, and opened his eyes.

 

“Please what, semicolon closing bracket.”

 

The mispronounced smilie brought Tony out of himself before he realized that the bastard was smirking.

 

“Please, let me come,” he said with no inflection.

 

“Do you want to come in your pants?”

 

Tony swallowed. “No, but I can’t...” he stopped because an unholy ripple suddenly started somewhere in the pit of his belly. “Stop. Please. I’m gonna-”

 

Abruptly, the vibration stopped. Tony’s hips bucked again, and with an inhuman effort Tony just stood there, all muscles locked, holding off his orgasm. He bit his lip to keep in the embarrassing whine and just breathed.

 

“Good, you’re doing real good.” And then, “You’re so good for me.”

 

A wave of an unimaginable pleasure hit Tony. His dom was pleased with him, he was doing well. He’d been good. Metsie was happy.

 

“Are you alright?” Tony heard and with a sinking feeling he suddenly realised that his stupid brain was interpreting the mechanical voice as Steve’s. In despair he sagged over the windowsill. How could his own brain betray him like that?

 

“Han?”

 

It was almost impossible to stop hearing the voice he so loved in his head.

 

“Yes,” he said, because if it were St- His dom was worried. “Yes,” he repeated more clearly. “I’m fine.” His brain was grabbing for the connections that had broken in the rush of adrenaline and endorphin. “I didn’t come,” he remembered to add.

 

“Good. Thank you, Han.” Pause. “You’ve no idea how much it means to me that you didn’t. You’re so good to me. Thank you. Really.”

 

Cautiously, as if uncertain of its reception, a feeling of accomplishment and worth had started trickling back. The synthetic voice was one-layered once more - it was his dom’s words, whose voice he’d never heard in real life. The arousal was still there, Tony was still extremely hard, but the pleasure of having pleased his dom was soothing the anxiety and Tony told himself that this was enough. He was going to be happy with what he had.

 

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> COMMENTS are LOVE. I'm not even kidding, I'm writing the reveal rn and it's confusing and I need support. Please?  
> Yes, I know I'm begging. Feed my muse, share me love :)  
> <3


	6. Wear The Tie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So as you might have noticed, I'm out of sync with posting, so I hope to continue with Thursdays and Mondays for now, but RL is a moody mistress, so I'm not making any promises. I hope you'll enjoy the story! :)  
> Special thanks for helping with a quick beta: Nigmuff <3<3<3  
> Also, Loran, you're a treasure. :)

*ö*Ö*ö*

 

 

A little bit later, Tony had the strength to let go of the window sill and stand up straight. His cock was still throbbing, but that was how Metsie wanted him, so it felt good.

 

“You have no idea how much I’ve been enjoying this,” Tony heard the pleasant, albeit synthetic, baritone in his ear. No wonder he'd started hearing the text in Cap’s voice, it was almost the same pitch. Tony was an idiot to have got confused and upset about it earlier. 

 

“Colon closing bracket,” the voice was saying meanwhile. “I’ve been ignoring everyone in favour of my phone.”

 

Tony smiled, feeling warm with satisfaction. He thought of pulling the security feeds to the banquet hall to see if he could make out who Metsie was, but of course, he wouldn't. 

 

“Are you hard?” Tony couldn't help but ask.

 

“What do you think? I have you on a short leash to play with; of course I'm hard.”

 

The endorphin rush was back, and Tony inhaled deeply as if he could smell his dom’s appreciation. The knowledge that he had that kind of effect on Metsie was intoxicating. A huge, stupid grin broke out all over his face.

 

“You have twenty minutes to calm down,” Metsie let him know.

 

“Thank you.” Tony paused to pull himself together, to keep it cool, but he still couldn’t help but repeat it more quietly, “Thank you.”

 

He wanted to touch himself, just caress his crotch for a moment, but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t allowed to and pleasing his dom felt even better than touching himself would have. Metsie would tell him when he wanted Tony to do something about his erection and until that time came, Tony simply wouldn’t.

 

He smiled stupidly and almost told Metsie ‘thank you’ again, but managed to refrain. He was such an idiot. It was just a game, no need to get emotional. It wasn't as if Tony had deep feelings for Metsie. It was just that something about hearing a voice (even mechanical) in his ear giving him orders was different from seeing the words on the screen. Any similarity between the synthetic voice and how Steve sounded he decided to count as coincidental because he’d specifically chosen the most attractive-sounding voice from the selection, so now he just had to deal with it. He could deal with it; it was just a voice, Tony told himself firmly.

 

Tony was halfway to the banquet hall when he realized he might look a mess, so he deactivated the app and turned into the nearest restroom to take a look in the mirror. It was a good thing he did. He must have run his fingers through his hair at some point. It looked a fright, and no wonder; he was still hard with no hope of it abating any time soon. His clothes were still immaculate, though, and his skin was flushed, lips bitten.

 

Just as Tony’s manic grin broke through his tightly controlled muscles, the farthest stall opened and none other than Steve Rogers himself came out.

 

“Steve!” Tony turned to him, delighted and still on an endorphin high. “What are you doing here?”

 

He would’ve kicked himself for the inane question if not for the way Steve startled and dropped his gaze. It was endearing, and Tony wanted to just go and cuddle the man. 

 

“I’m -  I just -  It’s a bathroom, Tony, what do you think?”

 

Tony couldn’t help himself - he laughed. “Sorry, sorry. Just…” He ran his wet fingers through his locks and tried to get them to behave. The result was somewhat more wavey (terrible, horrible hair), but at least it didn’t look like he’d given head to an octopus. Tony shuddered at the thought. 

 

“Yeah, sorry, I have to…”

 

He indicated the urinals behind himself and moved to the nearest one. He unzipped and fumbled at his fly; it was a little awkward to untuck his hard dick from the dance belt, but thankfully, Steve couldn’t see it from his vantage point at the mirror. In truth, Tony just wanted to adjust his erection, but for some reason, Steve was still standing there-

 

And was Tony paranoid? Steve couldn’t be staring at him right now, because why would he?

 

Casually, he turned his head to look. They were facing away from each other; Steve washing his hands at the sink and looking down at them, Tony still at the urinals, but for some inexplicable reason Tony just  _ knew _ that Steve had been staring at him through the mirror just a second before.

 

Finally, Tony got his dick out and attempted to go, but the blasted thing just got even harder; it was all he could do to just hold it and not squeeze or tease or start jerking off. Thank fuck for Steve being there. Or not. Peeing, however, seemed out of the question. 

 

He turned his head a bit and peered at Steve from under his lashes. The blond dried his hands and before leaving, threw Tony a look through the mirror just like Tony suspected he’d been doing earlier. Then he flashed Tony a grin and left.

 

“Fuck.” Tony stared at his ridiculous dick.

 

There was absolutely nothing erotic about standing in a restroom and holding your dick over a porcelain basin on the wall, but he’d been teased for over two hours, the plug was still there, invasive and perfect inside of  him, and his fingers were warm and so much better than the tight unmoving elastic confining it, that there was simply no way for him to truly calm down. Plus,  _ Steve _ had just been there, staring at him, looking scrumptious, with the blush high in his cheeks, his hair mussed, his tie slightly loose and his lips-

 

_ Holy shit! _

 

Tony turned his head fast enough for whiplash and stared at the stall Steve had come out of. Had there been anyone inside with him? A wave of bitter disappointment slashed through Tony’s chest and for a moment it felt as if he couldn’t breathe. He had to calm down; it wouldn’t do to have a panic attack at the urinals with your dick out.  _ Calm. The fuck. Down _ . Were they still there? Did they see…?

 

Tony tucked himself away, flushed the urinal and casually, oh so casually walked towards the sinks. He turned on the water, and, quaking with jealousy, crouched down to ‘tie his shoelaces’. He bit off a moan. Altering your centre of gravity with a medium sized plug in you was no laughing matter if you were aroused.

 

Surreptitiously, he looked under the stall doors. When he stood, he sighed with relief. Whoever had helped Steve to ‘relax’ must have left first. Probably just before Tony had come in. Frantically, he searched his memory for anyone coming out before he’d dashed in with his own ‘emergency’, but he just couldn’t recall. He let his masochistic curiosity gnaw at him for a minute more, but then he told himself that he didn’t want to know anyway.

 

Well, good for Steve. It wasn't like Tony was out of options either. Even if it was no more than an unrealistic dream, and… He was happy for Steve, he told himself again.

 

Tony took a minute to stand at the sinks and centre himself. For a little while his arousal felt like a poor substitute for what he actually wanted, but on the other hand - was he really going to let the fact that Steve was getting it on with somebody else ruin his own pleasure? He gritted his teeth and cleared his head off the images of Steve with some nameless woman in the narrow bathroom stall. However he felt about it at the moment, he couldn’t ruin their game for Metsie. So, for the last time, he checked himself in the mirror and left the restroom. By the time he made it back into the banquet hall, the dancing had already started.

 

He glanced at the time - 

 

And did a double-take.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I just got off.

**DamnThoseYankees:** Felt fantastic. Thank you :)

 

The arousal that hit him was blinding. Literally. Tony had to stop and take a couple of deep breaths before the white haze dissipated and he could see where he was going again.

 

Feeling as if his limbs had gone all uncoordinated and, ignoring a senator’s wife’s smile directed at him, he tore out of the ballroom and onto the balcony. For several minutes he stood there and breathed deeply. In and out, in and out. Counted fucking primes and for once, didn’t think of anything at all. 

 

His dom had just gotten off on tormenting him. Gotten off on the fact that Tony hadn’t.

 

The rush of endorphins was heady, and he wanted to find Metsie right the fuck now and worship his body in every possible way. Even if he wouldn’t be able to get it up soon or even at all tonight. Even if-

 

Tony cut this thought off; he had to get a grip on his emotions. A glance at the clock told him that he had five more minutes before Metsie turned the vibrator on. Plenty of time to get a dance in and a slow song shouldn’t be a problem. Quickly, he thumbed off a ‘thank you for telling me, feels great’ to Metsie and stepped back inside.

 

Tony scanned the room for the usual suspects and found that Mrs Thompson, an older but still very spry lady Tony always danced with at these kinds of dos, seemed perfectly content to sit and converse with the other older ladies.

 

Time to put an end to that then. 

 

Mrs Thompson used to be a dancer and, although in her sixties, was still in such incredible shape that not all partners were able to keep up with her. Which was what Tony had forgotten when setting about engaging her. Also the fact that she always chatted up a storm, so that by the time they made it to the dance floor, a considerably more lively song was on and Tony had only two minutes left if that.

 

The vibration started up just as they were finishing circling the room the second time and the refrain called for some more complicated leg-work. Of course, Tony didn't have to do it, but Mrs Thompson was clearly anticipating it and he just couldn't disappoint her.

 

Tony pressed her closer to him, grinned brazenly and, ignoring the waves of pleasure emanating from inside him, braved several twists and turns. Just as the refrain ended, the vibration reached the next level and for a moment Tony lost the thread of conversation, but luckily not his step. Oblivious, Mrs Thompson chattered on. 

 

After he escorted her back to her friends, the vibrator’s intensity decreased a bit, and Metsie asked him if he was dancing. He affirmed, and to atone for slighting the senator’s wife earlier, he asked her for a dance.

 

During that song, his tormentor started rapidly changing settings and by the time the third song was over, he was agonizingly on edge again, achy from tense muscles and sweating unpleasantly.

 

He escaped to an empty nook in the library and took his phone out.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yellow. I need a break.

 

Promptly, the buzzing stopped.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** you okay?

**HanShotFirst:** Yes. Just impossibly turned on

**HanShotFirst:** I would really like to go home now

**HanShotFirst:** It’s getting too much

**HanShotFirst:** Alternatively, can I have an orgasm?

**DamnThoseYankees:** nope ;) no orgasm

 

Tony felt a shiver go down to his toes.  _ Yes. _ Tony’s lips turned upwards in a sardonic smile at his own love for torturous teasing. 

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** but going home sounds like a good idea

**DamnThoseYankees:** leave as soon as you want but 

**DamnThoseYankees:** leave the toy in ;)

 

Slowly and very deliberately, he drew in a gulp of air, let it out even slower and typed:

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yes, of course. Are you going to stay?

**DamnThoseYankees:** god no

**DamnThoseYankees:** can’t wait to take my cock in hand again ;)

 

Tony shuddered with pleasure and quickly texted Happy to send him another car and stay to wait for Steve. He really didn’t want to see Steve at that moment, but he should let him know, right? He re-entered the banquet hall and scanned the crowd.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Can’t wait for you to come again. Are you going to think of me when you do?

 

_ Will you play with me during? Will you let me come? _

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** of course, Han

 

_ God, I hope so. _

 

Secretly relieved that he couldn’t find Steve, Tony sent him a text saying that Happy and the car were at his disposal. Then, still staring at his phone, Tony went outside and stopped at the top of the stairs. In anticipation of the descent, his cock twitched and his hole clenched. The uncertainty of further play at home made his cock twitch again. Even if he wouldn’t get an answer, he  _ had _ to ask.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Are you going to let me come tonight?

 

Before he got a reply, the car arrived, and Tony started down the steps, a spring in his gait and a curl to his lips. He was still looking at the chat when the reply came.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** well, I’m going to let you play a bit

**DamnThoseYankees:** and order you around

**DamnThoseYankees:** for my own pleasure

**DamnThoseYankees:** and then we’ll see ;)

 

Abruptly, Tony stopped walking and his heart rate kicked up a notch. That was decidedly not a no, but it wasn’t a yes either.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Can't wait 

 

*

 

The first thing he did in the car was to get the privacy screen up and adjust himself. For a short while, he even felt relieved, but it didn’t really alleviate the painful urgency of his erection, nor the invasive nature of the plug.

 

**HanShotFirst:** I’m in the car now

**DamnThoseYankees:** do you have privacy there?

 

Tony clenched his fist to centre himself and carefully typed out:

 

**HanShotFirst:** Yes. Privacy screen.

**DamnThoseYankees:** put your hand on your cock for ten seconds

**DamnThoseYankees:** light touch, don’t press

 

With an inner sigh of deep satisfaction, Tony did as he was told. As light as it was, the touch felt nice even without pressing. Just the heat of it through the fabric sent his heart skittering and made his breathing uneven. The triple damned ten seconds were up before he even got used to the sensation.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** repeat every two minutes

**DamnThoseYankees:** every third time you can rub yourself

 

Tony moaned.

 

**HanShotFirst:** Can I press more firmly at least?

**DamnThoseYankees:** :) no

**DamnThoseYankees:** only light touches please, Han

 

Tony cursed and as if hypnotized, stared at unchanging numbers on his phone clock.

 

**DamnThoseYankees:** I am touching myself right now :)

**DamnThoseYankees:** feels great

 

When the two minutes were up, Tony put his palm on his crotch and moaned again. He activated the app.

 

“Please,” he said. “I need more, please.” He took his hand off and his whole body convulsed with want.

 

**“** Begging! Wonderful!” he heard in his ear. “Keep it coming.”

 

Tony did. Ten seconds was an even shorter time period than he would’ve guessed. The most hated time period ever, in fact. Every third time, he  _ loved _ . The plug had been off since he’d left the venue, and by the time Tony noticed he was moving his hips on the seat to compensate for the loss of vibration, he was already almost home. He also had tears in his eyes and his begging was peppered with whimpers, so he didn’t feel like explaining the plug situation. Metsie wouldn’t object anyway; they were at the point where he always sought to maximise Tony’s torment.

 

The trip up to his floor was a practical application of delicious agony.

 

**“** Almost home,” Tony said, once in the elevator. “I can fuck myself with the blasted plug now, right?”

 

“Maybe. Not yet though.”

 

Tony’s hole clenched.

 

“Got privacy,” Tony said the moment the door was closed behind him, dropped his phone on the bed and started undressing. 

 

“Good. Undress.”

 

Tony grinned. “Done.” For a second, Tony stood indecisively next to the bed, but then flopped on it, his fingers twitching to touch himself. 

 

“Eager, aren't you?”

 

“Very. May I touch myself, please?”

 

“You may.”

 

Tony’s breath hitched for the thousandth time that evening and he put his left hand on his aching cock. Held it there, not breathing, then exhaled.

 

“I need to jerk off. Please.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Tony inhaled, thrilled. His hand tightened, his head swam, almost dizzy- but the next sentence stopped him.

 

“Yes, you do, don’t you?”

 

_ Yes. Fuck. _

 

His hand slackened in disappointment and Tony thought he might soon need to let go entirely because just touching was turning into more of a frustration than a thrill. Maybe that was it? Maybe Metsie had been planning to leave him hanging from the start? It wouldn't be a first time for Metsie to play with him, get himself off to Tony's begging and then tell him to go to sleep. In fact, it would be in character. At that thought, Tony felt himself go cold. 

 

Orgasming was the usual MO, keeping Tony on the edge was special. Today was a special night. 

 

_ Fuck. _

 

Tony's hands spasmed and he let go of his cock. 

 

“Take your hand off your cock while I think about that for a minute…”

 

_ Right. Okay. _ Now that he wasn’t  _ allowed _ to touch himself, he suddenly very much wanted to hold on. Still, trying not to groan, Tony lay back, put his hands behind his head and waited. There was a short pause during which Tony experienced a strange mix of dismay and satisfaction.

 

“Okay,” Metsie said then. 

 

_ Okay? Okay what? _

 

“Start jerking off now but go slow.”

 

“Oh, thank fuck,” Tony blurted.

 

“Semicolon closing bracket be ready to stop when I tell you.”

 

“Oh god,” Tony muttered and then, as his hand was sliding up and down his shaft, kept chanting on in his head, ‘ _ Oh god, oh god, oh god oh god. _ ’

 

“So good,” he whispered, cleared his voice and said a bit louder, “More. Please.”

 

“Go faster.”

 

Tony went faster. It was so close to what he needed that the strain of doing what he was told, instead of what he wanted, had his whole body trembling.

 

“Can I… grip harder? … I need harder. Please.”

 

“Yes. Harder. Tell me when you're close.”

 

Tony cursed. “I'm close, so fucking close…”

 

“Stop.”

 

Tony wailed as he let go of his cock and fisted his sheets instead. He closed his eyes and panted. “Please.” After a moment he realised that the noise he made couldn’t possibly have typed itself into anything coherent.

 

“Well, that's embarrassing,” he said. “Not sure, what came through there, but I've got a speech to text on. I’m not typing that crap. Does that make me look better or just lazier?”

 

“It makes you look smarter. I'll ask about that later. Right now stroke yourself 10 times and keep begging.”

 

“Fuck.” Gratefully, Tony took himself in hand and groaned, hoping that the app wouldn't interpret it in some weird way. He went slow, but each stroke was still an effort to keep from coming.  “Please, I need to come, will you let me? Please?”

 

“Five hard strokes, then let go.”

 

Tony gritted his teeth, braced himself and quickly pumped his cock five times. Letting go was painful, his hips bucked and he had to bite his lip to silence himself. Staring at the ceiling, his fists in the sheets again, he managed a pitifully breathy ‘please’.

 

For a minute there was no response.

 

“You’re jerking off, aren’t you?” Tony realised with a shiver. Involuntarily, he rubbed his butt on the bed and the plug moved inside him. “Shit. Can I at least play with the plug? Or something? Please.” He wouldn’t come from the anal stimulation alone, but at least it would be  _ friction _ . Knowing that Metsie was so hard at work that he couldn’t even reply, was doing things to him. “Please, Metsie. I need to. Please?”

 

“You beg so prettily colon closing bracket. Just came. Thank you.”

 

Another wave of dizzy pleasure hit Tony and he could only stare at the ceiling, panting, his hands tugging at the sheets, his hips moving. He stopped, trembling all over. Fuck, that was heady. The knowledge that his dom had just come while playing with him. Tony only wished he could have been right there to suck him off, or even just watch.

 

“I wish I could’ve seen it,” dropped out of his mouth, unchecked. He grimaced. Better to move on from that quickly. “Can I touch myself now?”

 

“Yes. I’ll tell you what to do. Touch your nipples first.”

 

Exhilarated, Tony did what his dom told him to, and even though he wasn’t even touching his cock, he felt at peace.

 

“Play however you like with them,” his dom continued. “One hand on your cock-”

 

Tony groaned as he touched himself.

 

“-pump it slow. Touch your sack if you like.”

 

Tony put his right hand on his balls and caressed them slowly. The pleasure rolled over his skin and spread throughout his whole body. He vaguely thought that he should remind Metsie about the plug, but somehow, it wasn’t as important any more. The important part was that he was doing what his dom told him to. That his dom was pleased. That he was happy.

 

“Harder now,” Metsie said, and Tony moaned gratefully as he pumped harder and quicker and struggled not to come.

 

Strangely, it wasn’t so difficult any more; Metsie didn’t want him to come, so he wouldn’t. As if in a trance, not even hoping to come any more, Tony listened to the voice in his ear and followed the instructions. His body was trembling, his cock leaking. A part of him was hoping that he would come accidentally (because what if Metsie planned on denying him tonight?), but most of him was simply desperate to be good for his dom and hold off. The uncertainty of an orgasm was just one more aspect to his pleasure.

 

“Please,” he moaned.

 

“Harder, Han.”

 

“Can’t,” Tony moaned. “Please.”

 

“Are you close?”

 

Tony wanted to laugh, but he had just enough air in his lungs as to grunt a short ‘yes’.

 

“Good. Now work yourself with the plug.”

 

Tony groaned, wishing Metsie could turn it on and off at will. 

 

“Does it feel good?” Metsie asked.

 

“Yes. Very good.” He pumped the plug in and out, fisting his cock with the other hand. “May I come? Please,” he gasped out, almost spasming with strain.

 

“Are you sure that's what you want?” the mechanical voice was mocking him.

 

“Yes, please,” he almost cried. “I want it, I need it. I'm so ready, please? Please let me!”

 

“All right, Han. Whenever you’re ready, sweetheart. Come.”

 

At first, Tony couldn’t believe his ears, but only after a second he sped up, gripped himself hard, tugged three more times and with an exclaimed ‘yes’, his world exploded. For an indistinct amount of time the high of his pleasure held, then tapered off into a blissful floating. Gradually, the blinding light behind his eyes faded into the dimness of his room, the noise in his ears quieted down, and for a while, he drifted.

 

“Han?” he heard and smiled dopily. It was probably good that Metsie didn’t see his expression.

 

“I finished,” Tony replied. “Thank you.”

 

“I’m glad. Colon closing bracket. Everything good?”

 

“Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “I think I’m floating. Thank you.” Tony thought of pulling a blanket over himself.

 

“You’re very welcome. Don’t forget to remove the plug.”

 

Tony grinned.  _ Right.  _ He reached down and with a bit of side-to-side movement took it out. He felt weirdly empty without it, tingling, but at the same time amazingly fulfilled. Exhausted in the best way.

 

“Before you go. Are you going anywhere tomorrow?”

 

Tony shimmied under the blanket. “Gotta make a quick run to the office, but nothing important.”

 

“Wear The Tie.”

 

“I promise.” Tony smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can yell now ;)  
> <3


	7. Dear Han

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews you guys have been leaving me - when I feel really bad about my writing, I reread your comments and feel good enough to write again. So - THANK YOU!  
> Also - my beta Loran is getting better and better at curbing my craziness, without her, my writing would be so much worse!  
> As you may have noticed, my twice a week schedule is now shot to hell and unfortunately, I can't see it picking up again. :( I promise to do my best to make it no more than seven days though. RL does not cooperate as well I would wish, but once a week should be doable.  
> And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading.  
> spoilers  
> And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers And now, if you hate spoilers, stop reading. spoilers This is going to get a bit rough and angsty now and it won't get resolved in this chapter yet. In the next chapter, it's going to get a bit better, and a bit of Angsty Fluff or Funny Angst (if there is such a thing) will make an appearance, but basically, the next two chapters are much darker than the first six. I do promise to make it all better in the 9th chapter though, so buckle up, kids and enjoy the ride! :) Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers. Here be the end of spoilers.

The next morning Tony woke up late, dressed in a suit and grinning stupidly, put on the tie with the shiny colourful planes on it. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have dressed to the nines to go to the office on a weekend, but Metsie did tell him to wear the tie and he felt ridiculously happy to do just that.

 

“JARVIS, where’s my briefcase?”

 

“Wouldn't it be right where you last left it?“ JARVIS said, sounding a bit confused. 

 

“By God, you're getting so good at sassing, my son.” Tony wiped a pretend tear. “The rec room?” Without waiting for the answer, he stepped into the elevator. 

 

“Thank you, sir, but I would prefer not to call you daddy if that's all right.”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Could you just check?”

 

“By the time I review the footage-”

 

The briefcase was indeed still on one of the couches where he'd left it almost two days ago and Tony grabbed it.

 

“Here you go, sir. The briefcase was indeed in the recreation room.”

 

“Yes, thank you, JARVIS, for your help,” Tony grumbled, turned to leave the room and bumped straight into Steve. Once more, Tony felt that old familiar pang at Steve’s proximity but covered it with a welcoming grin. “Well, hello, gorgeous,” he said, raising his eyes at the supersoldier. He tried to move past, but Steve had stopped in front of him and stared.

 

“Airplanes,” he muttered confusedly and then raised his eyes, wide and somehow shocked, up to Tony’s.

 

“Yeah? You have something against gaudy ties? I like it,” Tony said defensively. “It’s awesome. Plus, Pepper hates it,” he added with bravado and breaking eye contact, sidestepped Steve who seemed to be rooted to the spot. 

 

After pushing the elevator button, Tony turned back to tell Steve that someone wearing plaid shirts should not be so judgemental about other people’s fashion choices but discovered that Steve had already vanished.

 

*

 

The first thing Tony did after sitting into a car, was sending in what he secretly called his morning report.

 

**HanShotFirst:** GM :)

**HanShotFirst:** heading out to the office now

**HanShotFirst:** I  wore The Tie like you told me

**HanShotFirst:** and the red thong... ;)

**HanShotFirst:** the office will be relatively empty, BTW… *smirk*

**HanShotFirst:** any requests? ;)

 

At SI he conducted his business quickly and efficiently. Since his dom had yet to get back to him, Tony popped in at R&D and scared a couple of scientists out of their scientific fugue by jumping out at them from behind a partition and demanding to explain how they were planning on funding their outlandish project, then laughed at their panicked faces and helped them brainstorm a separate problem.

 

By the time he drove home, Metsie still hadn’t replied. It wasn’t that unusual, because from time to time there were days where he was absent for several hours and then just appeared at eleven. Besides, it wasn’t like Metsie had made any special promises about today.

 

It was fine. Everything was fine.

 

While driving, Tony kept composing whole letters to Metsie in his head, but thank fuck, managed to not send any, even though he allowed his new and specialised speech to text app to type out some of it. Even before climbing out of the car, his phone was already in his hand. 

 

God, he had it bad.

 

Without changing, Tony went straight to the workshop, removed his jacket, turned up his sleeves and not even touching his tie, opened all of his ongoing projects. 

 

It wasn't even that he was hoping for another game (even though his cock got all tingly every once in a while and it was Sunday, so they totally could), it was just this  _ feeling _ Tony had. That giddy, anticipatory feeling of new beginnings… But maybe he was having it alone? The thought made him anxious, so he pushed it away. 

 

Last night had been fantastic, and Tony had been _so sure_ Metsie had also thought it’d been fantastic. So why wasn't he online? Even just to say that he had obligations and wouldn’t be online until later? He usually let Tony know. 

 

But not always. It was  _ fine. _

 

After a night like the last though… It would be in character for him to leave Tony a morning greeting and let him know when he’d be online. Metsie was a considerate guy; maybe something was wrong after all.

 

He could've left the house without a phone or just lost it. His computer might've broken down and the phone was out of juice, the charger missing. There might’ve been a family emergency- 

 

God, this was getting ridiculous. 

 

“JARVIS?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

Tony shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

He couldn't breach Metsie’s boundaries, not when he expected his own privacy to be respected. Not while it was still two in the afternoon and there was no reason to think that something was actually wrong.

 

Absently, Tony loosened his tie, felt an inner pang and was about to tighten it back again, but then in an angry movement yanked it off, tugged it over his head and threw it towards the sofa. He'd worn it to the office, just like he'd promised. He was allowed to - 

 

Rejection. It was a ridiculous thing to feel, but there it was.

 

Metsie wasn't his boyfriend, Tony reminded himself. He hadn't made Tony any promises; the whole meeting last night had been Tony’s idea, in fact. It wasn't Metsie’s fault Tony kept getting attached so strongly after such a short while. It was supposed to be  _ casual _ . Tony couldn't even be sure if it was exclusive. He had no right to expect a- a boyfriend treatment, even though most of the time, Metsie  _ did  _ treat him like one.

 

But it was fine; he just had to adjust his expectations, Tony repeated to himself. They were fuckbuddies. At most, friends with benefits, and anything else was just in his head. It was  _ Tony  _ who'd made the commitment of having no other sexual outlet outside of their arrangement, not Metsie.

 

Metsie had no such obligations.

 

The thought cut like a blade under Tony’s ribs and he had to take a fortifying breath. He had no business feeling betrayed or even rejected, Tony knew that, but it didn’t change the fact that he did. Well, at least, after this self-diagnosis, it was easier to shove the broken pieces of his heart back into the heart-shaped hollow in his chest and lock it down again.

 

By the time seven pm rolled around, he’d managed to accept the likelihood of him having less impact on Metsie’s life than he had on Tony’s, so the next time he checked his phone and found no personal messages, Tony didn’t feel as if he had expected any. There was the standard eleven o’clock meeting; that’s what Metsie had meant when they’d agreed to talk today, and he had shit to do in the meantime.

 

Tony went upstairs and despite not feeling hungry, ate more or less a full meal because Metsie was sure to ask later. Tony smiled and joked around with his teammates that were around and about, but beyond flashing a quick smile at Steve at the sink, he managed not to moon after him too obviously. Thankfully, the blond hunk took his perfect Dorito self out of the kitchen within half a minute of Tony entering it, so Tony didn’t even need to reinforce the latches on the door of his bruised heart. Not much anyway.

 

God, but he had his wires crossed something awful.

 

*

 

After dinner, Tony took a shower and brought his laptop to the sofa to get some more work done, with his TV on mute. He was fine. Metsie was fine. There were no major car accidents reported on TV or online. There was no reason to ask JARVIS about it either. It would be ridiculous; it wasn’t even eleven yet.

 

He remembered his own casual but successful dates back in the day all to well. When they ended with good sex, but his emotions weren’t engaged - the next day, Tony had always thrown himself into his projects with renewed energy and purpose, and only several days later would he resurface and remember that maybe he could have a repeat performance. So he understood. It wasn’t as if a cyber thing, which always ended with your own five nimble friends anyway, was all that satisfying compared to a real thing with a flesh and blood partner. So if Metsie’s orgasms last night gave him newfound energy to dive straight into his real life today, Tony supposed that was the best outcome he could’ve expected. It meant that Metsie might like to keep coming back to play with him for a while yet.

 

Tony mentally nodded to himself. It was good to put things into perspective.

 

Casually, he glanced at the clock. Half past ten. It was early, but Tony’s fingers didn’t ask for his permission; they were already logging him in. Tony truly wasn’t expecting anything; Metsie probably wouldn’t even be online yet, so he blinked in surprise and pleasure when he saw that there was a new message.

 

Tony started smiling but toned it down. Metsie wasn’t online, it wasn’t an IM, he could be just saying that he couldn’t talk tonight. Maybe he had a da-

 

Tony squashed the thought and clicked the message open.

 

**_Dear Han,_ ** ****__  
**_  
_ ** **_There's really no good way for me to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it._**

 

Tony closed his eyes. Breathed. No. He took another deep breath. He wouldn’t read further. Except with a mind like his, it was impossible. When Tony looked at a text, the paragraph was instantly in his head, interpretation finished.

 

**_Dear Han,_ ** ****__  
****__  
**_There's really no good way for me to say this, so I'm just going to come out with it. I need to end our arrangement. I know this must seem abrupt to you, even though I've come to see it's been building for some time._ ** ****__  
  


Building. For some time. So it  _ had _ been all in his head. Of course. Metsie probably had been dating all along. Getting to know people. Probably met someone. Maybe even told them about-

 

Tony shut that thought down. Metsie wasn’t like that. That’s why he wrote the letter. He was letting Tony down gently because that was the kind of a man he was. Tony already more or less knew what was coming, so he steeled his heart and read on.

**_  
_ ** **_I answered your ad because I was curious, but also because my work - my real-world life - makes it difficult for me to pursue intimate relationships. I thought that the internet would be a safe way to seek out what was otherwise off-limits to me. I was wrong._ **

 

Tony breathed through the pain. The words were seared white-hot into his brain and were now burning him from the inside.  _ I was curious. I was wrong.  _ Tony pushed the laptop away and stood up.

 

_ Curious. Wrong.  _

 

Tony stumbled out of his room and into the elevator. At the workshop, he suited up, and without his feet even touching the ground of his take-off pad, burst straight up through the French windows.

 

Metsie had been curious. Well, not a bad motivation to try a bit of cybersex.

 

Tony flew as high as the suit allowed, then cut off the repulsors and dove into a free fall. 

 

“Sir, what are-”

 

“Mute.”

 

At the last possible second, Tony fired up the repulsors and veered upwards, towards the sky. Some cars honked, but he didn't care.

 

_ I was wrong. _

 

So for Metsie, this had been a mistake. Tony didn't much like being a mistake, but he understood. Of course, he did. Andt wasn’t as if Tony himself hadn’t been a lot more callous with his short-time conquests back in the day. Metsie, in comparison, had been more than kind. It was nobody's fault that Tony now felt hurt, or if it was, it was certainly not Metsie’s. How could he have known that Tony would grow so attached?

 

Executing loops, sharp turns and dives, Tony soared through the night sky, trying not to think. He muted the outside speakers and poured all his pain, his devastation and loss into a lone roaring scream.

 

He needed to feel this for a little while and then he would stop.

 

Tony had no idea how long he’d been flying or when it had turned into one straight line of getting as far away from the Avengers Tower as possible, but at some point, he finally decided that it was time to acknowledge the letter once more. The last paragraph he'd read was still in front of his eyes.

 

**_I never dreamed my relationship with you and my real life would conflict._ **

 

This ‘almost a face-to-face meeting’ last night must have finally opened Metsie’s eyes to how far down the rabbit hole Tony had fallen. Despite Metsie trying to be delicate, Tony still saw what this line was about - he’d gone too far and that was why Metsie was ending it.

 

**_I never dreamed I'd develop the kinds of feelings I have._ **

 

_ Stop _ , Tony told himself. This was not it. Metsie wasn’t telling him he’d fallen for Tony.  _ Read on _ , he told himself. And what came after… Clarified quite a bit.

 

**_I'd never willingly choose to hurt you, and the knowledge that I've probably done so hurts me more than anything else. You've given me so much, Han, and it kills me that I can't give you more in return._ ** ****__  
  


There. This was the truth. Metsie was letting him down gently. Tony guessed that the feelings Metsie had developed must’ve been along the lines of horror at the getting the kind of attention he’d never wanted nor even expected to be the focus of. And perhaps there was even a great deal of pity and regret mixed in.

 

Pity.

 

Tony was  _ pathetic _ .

 

Or maybe Tony should use words like sympathy and compassion, instead? It didn’t change the facts, though. Metsie was cutting him loose. Putting him out of his misery.

 

In hindsight, it was easy to see why Tony had been building castles in the clouds. He’d been so lonely, so much in love, and Steve didn’t want him. It was understandable that he’d latched onto the next best thing, just as it was understandable why Metsie was ending it. Just like Tony, he’d never intended for this becoming anything more than an online fling. The difference was that he probably had other outlets for his sexual and emotional needs, which helped him to keep a level head and recognize that Tony was becoming too attached. The knowledge that Metsie now felt sorry for him burned in him with intense humiliation. Tony felt foolish. Pitiful. Useless. When he finished reading the letter, he’d go home, bury himself in work and not think about it. Well, at least Metsie didn’t know who Han really was, and-

For a brief, blinding moment Tony was one hundred per cent sure that Metsie broke it off because he had somehow figured out who Han was. Maybe he saw him delivering the remote, but only put two and two together later? Figured out his tech? Ran his fingerprints?

 

No. No, Tony was being ridiculous. Metsie would’ve written another kind of letter if that were the case. If Metsie knew, Tony would see it in the words, read it between the lines if it was the Stark legacy or his playboy persona or something else like that. No, Metsie still thought the best of Han in general, he just objected to the emotional intimacy and probably physical proximity. He even wrote that he regretted that he couldn’t give Han what he deserved. Metsie didn’t know, and never would. Just as Tony would never-

 

But he could.

 

Tony tried to suppress this thought, but it wouldn’t go. He could just ask JARVIS or he could hack the servers that stored the video surveillance from last night, or he could simply find out Metsie’s IP address and go from there. Maybe it would make it easier if he knew who Metsie was?

 

Wouldn’t it be too stressful to constantly wonder if maybe this employee or that colleague was  _ him _ , or if it was the business partner he’d known for a year, or if it was one of the Fury’s men he was shaking hands with now? Or maybe it would be harder to  _ know _ and then trying to avoid him? And when he couldn’t, he’d have to smile at him politely and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Would Tony even be able to look him in the eye if he knew?

 

Not trying to find out was the right thing to do, Tony knew that. Whatever the consequences would’ve been, he had to respect Metsie’s privacy, especially since that need for privacy was probably one of the reasons he was ending their arrangement in the first place. That decided, Tony called the text of the letter forth onto the HUD to finish reading. If the end was as painful as he expected, he’d prefer to have a chance to absorb it in the air.

 

It was.

**_  
_****_I wish I could offer a better explanation._** **_Please believe me when I say that our time together has meant the world to me. You deserve so much, and I know you'll find someone who can give it to you. I'm just sorry that I couldn't be that person. More sorry than I can say._** ** _  
_****_  
_****_Be well._**

 

What was there to explain? Everything was clearer than the light reflecting back from his visor. Tony reread the last part and smiled sadly at the idea of finding someone else. Metsie was supposed to be that someone else.

 

*

 

The few days crawled by. Tony composed tens of versions of his reply to Metsie’s letter and briefly entertained the idea of not responding at all, but in the end, he figured he owed Metsie at least some sort acknowledgement. After all, Metsie had been nothing if not considerate and respectful, and almost three days later, so late it was almost morning, Tony finally sat down on his sofa to write his reply.

 

It didn’t take long, because in the end, what was there left to say? He just wanted this over with, but even after sending it, he didn’t feel better. Coming out of his room, walking in the same halls he could meet Steve at any given moment was an exercise in excruciatingly nerve-wrecking spy game where JARVIS instructed him where to go so that he wouldn’t meet Steve by accident. It was like a low-level toothache suddenly blossoming into a vengeful agony. How had a rejection from Metsie suddenly transformed into this? How had he managed to mix up his feelings for Steve with what was going on between Metsie and him? It didn’t make any sense.

 

For a minute, Tony wondered if it would be a good idea to advertise for another key holder, but everything that happened was just too raw still. Besides, thinking of his physical needs felt too exhausting. Even simply lying down on the same bed where he’d recently been so happy was a struggle.

 

What was clear though, was that he needed to get away for a bit. In a spur of the moment decision he called Pepper and asked her to make arrangements for his indefinite stay at his Malibu house. The coward that he was, he informed Steve about it only when it was already more or less irreversible.

 

Tony could hear shock and dismay in Steve’s voice and almost reconsidered going.

 

“I’m so sorry, Steve,” he said over the phone because he couldn’t face that conversation in person. “I know it’s sudden. But I promise I’ll be there if there’s a real emergency, right? I’m just a phone call away.” He shut his eyes and willed Steve to ask him to stay.

 

Steve didn’t.

 

*

 

About a week after his move to the west coast, Tony decided that he was an idiot.

 

Why would anyone ever think that there'd be any real feelings when engaged in anonymous cybersex? It had been intended to be just a little bit of fun. Stress relief. Tony had, once again, managed to blow it all out of proportion. Read into things. Read into the gentle care that Metsie was administrating as a part of the game. It had all been just a game. 

 

Something squeezed painfully in his chest.

 

No.

 

No. He was not going to let it beat him. He wasn't going to let it affect his life at all. In fact, he was getting back into the dating scene. He nodded to himself. That cute analyst who had smiled at Tony the last time he’d been to the offices? Lucky that tomorrow was Monday.

 

*

 

According to social media, Tony Stark was having the time of his life. According to Fox News, he was indulging in endless debauchery. Whichever it was, at his age, nightlife in LA was exhausting. Especially if one was trying to keep one’s sobriety, and found the carnal side of it wholly unappealing.

 

*

 

At first Tony didn’t even notice what was going on, because leaving a party with a couple of beautiful women and then dropping them off at their own doorsteps wasn't anything new. Low libido, when between his workshop and the next party there was just a brief crash on the sofa, also seemed quite natural, but when he sported a first morning erection in a few weeks and felt reluctant to even touch it… Tony decided to ignore the whole situation. 

He also ignored his sexual needs when it happened the second time and the third.

 

After that he decided that the reluctance to touch himself was uncharacteristic for him and prepared to spend the evening on his sofa, watching porn. He chose a soft lesbian threesome and teased himself through his clothes. After a while, he unzipped and… 

 

He couldn’t touch himself.

 

He brought his hand to his dick and it just hovered there, two inches above his straining erection. Tony stared at it in humiliation and disbelief. Tony swallowed, told himself that Metsie wouldn’t care, and tried again.

 

The feeling of skin on skin was weird, alien almost. Unauthorized contact. Disallowed pleasure. He gripped the shaft like he usually enjoyed, but the feeling was bitter. Tony pumped it a couple of times and stopped.

 

He could continue, he knew - the spell was broken -, but did he really want to? In the end, he decided it didn't matter what he wanted - he needed to do this. As much as he’d like for things to be otherwise, he couldn't let Metsie dictate his actions any more, however pleasurable it had been in the past. His body was his own and now he was taking back his mind. 

 

Slowly, Tony started moving his hand up and down his cock. For a bit, it was a struggle to even maintain an erection, but he restarted the film, forcefully cleared his mind, concentrated on the physical sensations and got down to it.

 

After he finally came, he cried.

 

*

 

It was stupid to wish that he’d never seen that damned tie, but childishly, Steve felt that the tie was the thing that had ruined everything. Would it have been better if they kept on playing until they decided to meet for a brunch and found out together? Could they have laughed it off or maybe Tony would’ve given it a real chance? It was extremely improbable, but this thought was hard to let go of.

 

Seeing the tie like he had and realising what he did, put Steve into an impossible situation. Telling Tony he was Metsie had felt unthinkable. At this point, Tony wouldn’t want to know that. Steve tried putting himself into Tony’s shoes, imagining how he’d feel if it turned out that Han was actually Sam or Bucky and shuddered with horror. Not telling Tony while continuing the arrangement had been equally out of the question. There had been only one thing he could do, really, but God, how Steve wished he could take care of Tony just one more time; make him food, tell him to eat and then go to bed and be  _ obeyed.  _ Just one more time. Even if it were over the internet, even anonymously. Even if Tony never came back to New York.

 

But, no. That wasn’t true.

 

In his room, Steve was sitting at his desk and staring at his laptop screen where Tony’s reply was mocking him.

 

**_Dear Metsie,_ **

**_I can’t say I’m not disappointed with your decision to end it, but I understand. No explanation necessary. Don’t worry about it. It’s cool._ **

**_Han_ **

 

Tony didn’t care. Not really. Yes, his ego had been hurt, rejection always stung, after all, but by the dismissive words Tony used, it was clear that it wasn’t anything deeper either. An online sex partnership wasn't the same as a friendship, was it? Sure, they’d told each other about how their days had been, joked around and sometimes even shared thoughts on current events, but at least seventy per cent of their interaction had always been about the game. So no, in the end, they hadn’t managed to forge a deep, meaningful connection and Tony’s letter only cinched it. He hadn’t even cared for an explanation, because if Tony Stark had wanted to know something, he as hell wouldn’t have held back from demanding it.

 

His heart aching even worse than before receiving the reply, Steve shut his laptop and calmly walked to the kitchen. He found a pot of soup in the fridge, put it on the stove and turned the heat on.

 

So now it was over, Steve thought, as he was still staring into the pot. Tony was free to do whatever he wished. Steve just hoped that he wouldn't find a new key holder too soon. God, that thought stabbed something awful. His fingers itched to click on the ad section of the site and check, but the truth was - he didn’t want to know. If Tony had a new partner by now or even if he would find one soon, Steve didn’t think he could bear the knowledge that someone else was now telling Tony when or how to touch himself. He imagined Tony in the throws of passion holding off his orgasm for some nameless and faceless asshole who didn’t even care if Tony would thank him afterwards or not. 

 

What if they hurt Tony? What if they insisted on protocol? Told him to call them sir, or even worse - master? Tony would hate that. Surely Tony wouldn’t play with someone like that? Before Steve got to know Tony’s submissive side, he’d say no, definitely not, but now he wasn’t so sure. Having played with him for several months, Steve wondered if at one point Tony might agree to too much, go too far just to please his dom; that Tony would be so eager to please that he’d forget to take care of his own wellbeing.

 

Steve squashed the thought when he noticed that the spoon in his hand has started to bend. He straightened it, and thought-

 

“JARVIS?” he called out loud, almost not feeling weird about speaking aloud in an empty room.

 

“Yes, Captain?”

 

“Will you be monitoring Tony’s-” He shook his head. JARVIS knew, of course, he’d known from the start. Why would Steve feel self-conscious about it now? “If Tony finds another play partner, will you keep an eye on him?”  _ For me? _

 

There was a bit of a pause and Steve hastened to add, “I know you can’t breach privacy protocols and all that, but can you just keep out for signs if something’s wrong? I mean-”

 

“I know what you mean, Captain. I will do my best to keep an eye on him. I always do.”

 

Steve swallowed. “I know you do.”  _ I wish it could be me _ . “I don’t expect you to tell me anything, obviously,” Steve went on, trying to keep his composure, “but if… If anyone tries to hurt him and you can see any loophole at all, let me know, alright? I mean, if I can help that is. I can-”  _ Beat the bastard up in the dark alley? _ “Just let me know if I can help, alright, JARVIS?”

 

“Of course, Captain.”

 

Deep down though, Steve hoped he would never hear anything about Tony playing at all. He didn’t think he could bear it if he knew. Tony in subspace was a sight though - would Steve recognize it if he saw Tony wandering around the tower deeply under? He hadn’t before, but now that he knew what it looked like, Steve couldn’t imagine how he could not.

 

His appetite all but gone, Steve forced himself to loosen the grip on the spoon and turned the heat off. He needed to eat, so he tasted a spoonful. 

 

Just for a change, Steve tried imagining what would happen if he could take it all back if he could just make it so that he’d never answered that ad, that he'd never found out how beautifully Tony could submit if he chose to do so… But no. The months he spent playing with Han had been some of the most beautiful, exciting times he’d ever experienced. It was fucked up how much Steve wanted for it to happen again and to never have it happened at the same time. He just wished there was a way… any way at all, a small chance that Tony could want him the way Steve wanted him.

 

His musings were all entirely pointless though; Tony was currently in LA demonstrating very emphatically how he wasn’t pining away at all, so Steve had to let this go. Let Tony go. No, not Tony.  _ Han _ , because Steve had never really had Tony.

 

Absentmindedly, Steve took another spoonful straight from the pot. He’d always been sure that he could do whatever he’d set his mind to. It was simple - all he had to do was never give up. But overcoming his obsession with Tony seemed now even a more difficult task than ever before, because now he knew that it wasn’t some random New Yorker, but  _ Tony _ who had begged, pleaded and cursed at him for release, Tony who had denied himself and thanked Steve for it, Tony who had started chatting about inconsequential things after a game and kept sending him snippets of the things he encountered throughout the next day. Now that he knew that even in terms of sexual compatibility, they were a perfect match for each other - how could he ever let  _ that _ go?

 

And Tony didn’t know and would probably never even want to know.

 

With a metallic sound, the spoon scraped at the bottom of the pot, and frowning, Steve realised that he’d apparently ate the whole thing still standing at the stove.

 

“Left any of that for me?”

 

Startled, Steve turned, only to see Natasha in the doorway.

 

Right.

 

“Um… sorry.”

 

The next day, she took him clothes shopping, including a lingerie boutique. He wouldn’t have minded if he hadn’t gotten a feeling that she was trying to get a reaction out of him. Resolutely, he chose three pairs of lacy panties in large sizes and went straight to the changing rooms. He sat in there for ten minutes, came out and bought all three. Natasha might not have been fooled, but she did look as if she was holding back a smile.

 

After that, she’d backed off a bit, but still dragged him to a ballet (he appreciated the skill, but mostly just endured it politely), a comic con (they wore anime masks to remain unrecognised and fawned over the Avenger wannabees which was actually quite fun), then a skating roller rink (they quickly upgraded to a skate park, but had to leave before they attracted too large of an audience), an arcade (Steve preferred mechanical games to the electronic ones) with bumper cars (Steve rediscovered his inner demon there), and a miniature golf course (dull).

 

The best days were when random villains tried taking over the world, or even just Manhattan, and the Avengers managed to subdue them with no casualties.

 

Steve had to be honest with himself: these were the best days because Iron Man showed up. He even stayed for clean-ups and debriefs. Steve thanked him for coming; shook his hand, smiled, watched him take off from the roof.

 

And ached.

 

“You could just ask him to come back, you know,” Nat said one night in the rec room after everyone else had left for their beds.

 

“What?”

 

“Steve,” she put a gentle hand on his forearm. “Don’t be obtuse. You know what I’m talking about.”

 

Yes. He knew. Didn’t mean he’d just admit to it. 

 

“It’s not that simple.”

 

“Isn’t it?”

 

*

 

Steve was pacing back and forth with a phone in his hand.

 

Had Tony been hurt by Metsie breaking it off with him? Probably. But he also seemed to be over it already and even if there was some lingering regret on Tony’s part, Steve still deemed it had been the best course of action. But maybe it really was time? Should he call Tony like Nat had suggested? Would Tony come back if he asked?

 

Steve stopped and stared at the display on his phone.

 

Wouldn't asking Tony to come back be selfish of him? Tony had the right to live wherever he wanted, but on the other hand, it wasn’t as if Tony would care that much what Steve thought about it, so he could just let Tony know… Like Rhodey sometimes asking Tony to come out, see him. Low priority request, no real pressure. 

 

Steve thumbed the screen open and- stopped with his finger hovering above the small phone handset icon.

 

It shouldn’t matter that Tony was having fun in Malibu. Tony seemed happy and Steve was the one left with the heartache - surely that was a win? It wasn’t like Steve hadn’t been heartbroken before this whole online thing happened. Nothing much had changed, not really. Save for the short five or six months of anonymous cybersex. Save for the fact that now he knew that Tony was actually very much willing to submit to a sexually dominant partner and under certain circumstances even let himself be taken care of. Save for the devastating fact that Tony was actually the best partner Steve could ever imagine for himself in every sense of the word.

 

Feeling weak-willed and cursed for it, closing his eyes, Steve pressed the call icon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope this chapter didn't depress you too much.  
> Would love to know what you thought of this development. :)  
> Share the love <3


	8. Confused and wobbly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1) WARNING is in the end notes for those who need it. 2) f you know a lot about knots and tying, then forgive my ignorance. 3) All the wrestling terms I use in this chapter are real and come from this site: https://www.teamusa.org/USA-Wrestling/Features/2017/May/25/Glossary-of-Wrestling-Terms  
> If you have free time, check them out - I'm so sorry I didn't manage to use 'squeeze'. That would've been fun. :)
> 
> And now for the IMPORTANT stuff!!   
> Thank you, everybody who left me a comment, I really cherish each and every one of them. :)  
> A lot of you complemented the angst of the last two chapters, so... Here's more. :) The original version had a side of fluff in there too, but I'm not sure how much survived. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter, too.  
> <3

  
  


Tony picked up on the third ring.

 

“Steve. Are we assembling? I didn't get the alert.”

 

The pleasure at hearing Tony's voice curled in Steve’s belly. “No, there's no alert. That's not why I'm calling.” Did he really only call when there was an emergency? If so, he was a really shit friend.

 

“Oh? What is it then?” Steve could hear a smile in Tony's voice. It was probably just relief. “Is there a problem with your suit or equipment?”

 

“No, nothing like that.”

 

Steve tried gathering his thoughts, but it might’ve taken him a bit because when he heard Tony’s voice next, there was a slight worry in it.

 

“Steve?”

 

“Yeah?” God, it was good to hear his voice so clearly. With the technology as it was nowadays, it felt surreal that Tony was actually at the other end of the country.

 

There was a hesitant pause.

 

“Steve, is something wrong?”

 

“No,” Steve hastened to say. “Not really. I’m just disconcerted about both of my heavy hitting fliers being on the other side of the country every time I need them.” Avenger talk. That was safe. That would make sense for Steve to be worried about.

 

“Both…? Oh, you mean Rhodey.”

 

“Yeah, isn’t he stationed at Edwards?”

 

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.”

 

There was a pause and Steve held his breath to see which way the chips fell.

 

“Shit,” Tony went on after a second. “I didn’t even think of that. I’m so sorry, Steve. I’m throwing off your defence strategy, aren’t I? Why didn't you say anything sooner? I'm always flitting here and there with no thought of how it affects your-”

 

“No, no, Tony. It's fine, it’s-”

 

“How is this fine? I-”

 

“I’m not mad at you for travelling for work and I would hardly blame you for wanting to change your home address, Tony. You seem to be enjoying yourself in LA, and if that's really the case, of course, you should stay.” Steve felt like a liar. “It’s not a problem really,” he tried to backtrack because making Tony feel as if he wasn't doing enough was a lousy thing to do. “It’s just that I thought that it was a relatively short trip, but if you’re really staying, I think I should know.” Feeling suddenly tired, Steve sat down on his sofa. “I know you’re having fun there… I’ve seen you on the news-”

 

“Since when do you watch celebrity news?” Tony interjected.

 

Steve cringed. “I don't really, I just…” He cleared his throat. “It’s not as if you’ve been telling me much about what’s going on in your life right now, so when they mention you on TV, I tend to tune in.”

 

There was a pause.

 

“Yeah, well. You know how the news can be…”

 

“Yeah, I know.” Still, he couldn't help being overwhelmed by the acid jealousy churning in his stomach every time he saw pictures of Tony with his arm around a random beauty or them plastered to his side. They did seem to be someone different every time, but that didn’t really mean anything. He might be keeping the person he’s interested in away from the limelight, or maybe they were still in the early stages of wooing or… The point was, it didn’t seem as if Tony was missing New York. He wasn't missing _Steve_.  “I’m glad you like it there, Shellhead,” he settled on. Steve told himself he wasn’t going to ask, then opened his mouth and said, “Have you… met someone?” A large part of him wished he could take it back, but just as strongly he wanted to hear the answer.

 

“Not really. I just like the scene,” Tony gave him a line, but it didn't feel like a lie either, and finally-

 

Finally, Steve felt like he could breathe again. Tony wouldn’t lie about that. Not to Steve. He wasn’t partying _with_ someone. Tony was just… being Tony.

 

Steve snorted and almost defensively Tony went on, “And you know me... What’s a life without a party?”

 

“Don't give me that,” Steve said softly, his smile hovering somewhere around his cheeks, but not yet brave enough to break out on his lips. “I know you don’t really like partying all that much anymore, that’s why I thought that maybe you’d found someone and that was why you were maybe thinking of making your relocation permanent.” He leaned back and put his elbow on the edge of the sofa behind him. Still reeling from relief, he rested his head in his hand.

 

Tony was just letting off some steam after overworking himself in New York. Maybe wanting a change of scenery after his online affair. Was that the word Tony would use? He was likely glad to be finished with the game and was now _dipping in the pool_ again. Probably indiscriminately.

 

Vicious jealousy slammed back into Steve’s solar plexus and squeezed. Great.

 

Maybe Tony had even found a new dom- but if there really wasn’t anyone special… There might be a chance to lure Tony back. If Steve could give him a good enough reason...

 

“Look, Steve…” Tony continued in the meantime, oblivious to Steve’s ugly manipulative strategizing. “About the partying… I really haven't found anyone, I've just been… The thing is- The thing is that I’m kinda unlucky in love, so instead of happy, I do fun. That’s what you’ve been seeing. Me having fun. That's all there ever is, that's all there's ever been. That's all there ever will be.”

 

His voice had gone quieter and quieter, and at hearing Tony’s disappointed words, the green squeeze in Steve’s heart finally let up and another kind of pain stabbed him under the ribs, twisting. Tony should have so much more. Why wouldn’t Tony let Steve give him more? Give him everything?

 

“Tony,” he started, but then the realization of what Tony seemed to be saying dawned on him and he stopped. Didn’t it sound an awful lot like… Was it possible that Tony was talking about Metsie? About _him_ ? Was it possible that all this time, Steve had been jealous of _himself_? Was that what the partying was all about? Was Tony trying to forget about Metsie because he felt unlucky in… love? In love with…?

 

“What?” Tony interjected when Steve fell silent. “I can hear your silent judgement all the way from there. Stop using that tone. You know I hate when you do that ‘Tony has gotten it all wrong again’ thing,” he whined light-heartedly.

 

Steve felt like laughing. “I'm not using any special tone, Tony.”

 

The idea was ridiculous. Of course, Tony wouldn’t have been so foolish as to fall in love with someone he’d only spoken to over the Internet. But maybe he did care a lot more than Steve could have imagined, and certainly a lot more than he’d hoped for. Steve himself had felt the closeness, why had he been so adamant that it was one-sided? Would it really be such a stretch to assume that Tony had felt the same?

 

“Of course, you're using that tone. I'm intimately acquainted with that tone, don't even try it, Captain IKnowBetter.” There was a smile in Tony's voice.

 

Steve smiled back and impulsively said, “You’re intimately acquainted with some of my other things, too.” He cringed. And then cringed again when there was an obviously confused silence at the other end. “Well,” Steve went on quickly. “You’ve seen me naked, right?” _Shit._ This was not an improvement. “It was a joke. Not one of my best, I admit. Sorry.” Steve felt hot all over and he rubbed his mouth in mortification. Thank God, Tony couldn’t see his face.

 

“Steve?” There was laughter in Tony’s voice. “Are you trying to flirt with me? No don’t deny it, you’re busted now. I’m putting it down as The Day Captain America Tried Out Flirting. Oh my god, Steve, you’re precious!”

 

Momentarily, all traces of the suffocating embarrassment he’d felt were chased away by the utter feeling of hopelessness; it wasn’t the failed attempt itself that Tony found funny, but the mere idea of Steve trying to flirt struck Tony as _amusing_. Was Steve such a sexless creature to him, that any allusion to sexuality felt just incongruous?

 

“Yes. Exactly. Precious, that’s me.” He cleared his throat. “But going back to what I actually wanted to say was that you should stop selling yourself short.” Now that it was perfectly clear what his next step should be, he felt calm. “You’re worth so much more than just fun, Tony. You _know_ that. You deserve to be happy.” He closed his eyes and thought how he could get Tony to come back home quicker. “You deserve to be loved, Tony, and I'm sure there would be plenty of people willing to love you if you'd just let them. And those that wouldn't… Well, it’s their loss.”

 

For a minute Tony didn’t respond.

 

“Tony?” Steve said. “You believe me, right?”

 

“I believe that you believe it,” Tony said quietly.

 

The sadness in his words packed a metaphorical punch that made Steve’s breath hitch.

 

“You don’t believe me,” he stated grimly. Steve gripped the phone in his hand. “I’m going to change that.”

 

*

 

Since Steve always thought better on a full stomach, after the phone call, he headed straight to the kitchen. Determinedly, he went through the fridge and cupboard contents to decide what he wanted to make. His hands moving on auto-pilot, Steve tried to think back to everything he’d been suppressing out of self-preservation.

 

Finally. Finally, Steve could let himself remember everything said and done during those six months in which he had the chance to play with Han, a wonderful hardworking man, who submitted so beautifully. Finally, Steve allowed himself to think about Han and Tony being the same person and how it explained some of Tony’s behaviour during that time period.

 

Steve remembered the gala; the last game they had together before the fateful Tie Incident. He thought about how Tony had looked when they’d met at the edge of the dance floor, the distracted way Tony had talked when they met at the balcony later. Finally, he let himself imagine how the words he’d read on his phone would have sounded coming out of Tony’s mouth; his desperation, his sass, and even at times, his obstinance.

 

Steve suddenly noticed that he was smiling stupidly into the pot of water on the stove. He couldn’t stop thinking about how he’d jacked off (he still couldn’t believe he’d done that!) in the cubicle only to come out to see Tony, looking very obviously ravished, flushed and almost manic, but also so, so exuberant. Ecstatic. The idea, that Tony’s state had not been any reason to feel jealous after all, made Steve feel a possessive pleasure he was embarrassed by, and as it currently stood, had no right to. Now that he knew that Tony had been so flustered, so excited because _Steve_ had made him so; because he was waiting on _Steve’s word_ to touch himself; in retrospect, the whole scene felt highly satisfying.

 

Steve had just dumped the pasta into a pot when his hands stopped moving.

 

The ride to the gala. Oh God! Tony’s ass had been plugged the whole time! That had been the reason for the fidgeting and a vibrating knee and... Steve had assumed it was the caffeine, but instead, it was- Steve thought about how he had stood behind a palm tree, trying to distract himself from watching Tony by viciously fiddling with the remote. It was ironic that the same happiness Tony had radiated the whole evening had hurt so much back then, while now it gave Steve hope.

 

Another memory that surfaced was how on the plane back from the military base, Tony had been upset with Steve because somebody had liked Captain America more than Iron Man. In hindsight, it was clear that the cause had been that Steve, or rather Metsie, suggested that Tony imagine Captain America naked and mentioned Iron Man as what must have sounded like an afterthought.

 

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, the hope stirring in his chest feeling like a wild bird trying desperately to get out. Could it be true? That they had both been jealous of _each other_ this whole time? That Metsie had been more to Tony than a means to an end?

 

Leaning on the counter, Steve rubbed his face and stared at the closed cupboard door in front of him. The complete picture was far less hopeful, of course, but if he wanted to get anywhere with Tony, he should acknowledge it just the same.

 

That first play night, when Steve had told Han to call a purely platonic friend, Steve’s phone had rung only a few seconds later. It seemed that Tony hadn’t even hesitated a moment; he’d probably never thought of Steve as anything else than his platonic friend. Steve had known that. It wasn’t new information, but the knowledge felt almost like a physical weight on his shoulders. Suddenly, the previously so deliciously smelling food didn’t seem all that appetizing.

 

Still, Steve thought, reaching into the cupboard for a large plate, if Tony had liked  - had really liked - Metsie, then maybe all was not lost? If he could talk Tony into giving them a chance of having a few face to face dominating sessions  - well. The thought left him giddy and anxious in equal measure. Maybe if he was really smart about it, Steve could even talk Tony into a few dates where he could show him a real good time, and then afterwards take care of him in other, more intimate ways. Maybe after a few dates, Tony would even consider the possibility of a relationship with Steve? It seemed unlikely that someone as brilliant and popular as Tony would want that, but the spark of hope had been lit and even if the situation was desperate, there was no way Steve would give up if there was even the slightest chance of success.

 

He just had to make Tony see, had to make him realize that they fit in the bedroom just as well as they fit on the battlefield, that they complemented each other in their intimate desires just as well as they did in strategy meetings. Steve _had_ to make Tony look at him in a sexual way.

 

He needed a plan.

 

*

 

Tony cursed himself thousand times a fool, but less than three weeks later, he was back in New York. In the end, all it took was an offhand opinion Steve shared during a phone call about strategic planning (“The team needs you here, Tony. _I_ need you here.”). It was humiliating how easy he was for Captain America.

 

Even now Tony cringed how pathetically quickly he gave in after that, but, surprisingly, Pepper didn’t even put up a token fight while re-organising everything for him again. So at first, Tony thought maybe it was a good decision, and he rather quickly settled into the quiet lifestyle he'd lived in the tower previously. It was peaceful, Tony told himself. Just like before his idiotic idea to find an online play partner.

 

Tony was just getting into the flow of tinkering in his tower workshop again when in frustration he overbent a wire he was supposed to be soldering. He straightened in his chair and rubbed his brows. He looked around for a pair of pliers to fix the wire, then huffing, pulled the entire length of it back out and started from scratch, damn it.

 

The situation with Steve was… strange.

 

At first Tony hadn’t noticed anything weird - the swarm of butterflies beating up havoc in his stomach when he saw Steve was par for the course, as was the need for suppressing a giddy smile and the vicious ache churning in his gut that came in their wake. Ignoring it all, Tony greeted Steve with his usual ‘I’m not besotted, no, nope, just friendly’ smile, shook his hand and patted him on the shoulder. Later they met up in the kitchen, passed each other in the corridors, sat together in the workshop just as had been their habit. But then over the course of the week, it became apparent that during his stay in Malibu something indiscernible had changed.

 

Had Steve always loomed so closely over Tony while gripping his shoulder (or worse yet, the back of his neck) just on the pleasurable side of too tight? Had Steve ever used that commanding tone of voice outside of his Captain America role before? The same tone that made Tony's knees liquid, head empty and heart full? When had it all started? Tony wasn’t sure, but the anxious glint Steve sometimes got in his eyes that was there for a blink and gone the next, made Tony feel disconcerted. Surely, Tony couldn’t have missed all of that before, could he? Surely, these were new patterns of behaviour for Steve?

 

Had Steve finally guessed how Tony felt about him? The thought filled Tony with mute horror. But no, Tony decided. How could Steve have figured it out? And while Tony was away at that? Tony tried to replay all the phone conversations they’d had while he was in Malibu, but nothing incriminating jumped out at him.

 

All the wires soldered in place, Tony got to the next part of the assembly.

 

Should he ask JARVIS what he thought?

 

“JARVIS, you up?”

 

“For you, sir? Always.”

 

But JARVIS didn’t always understand human interactions, so it wasn’t as if his opinion could be trusted in this matter. “How long until the side plate’s ready?” he asked, instead.

 

“Just under an hour now, sir.”

 

“Good. Let me know when it’s ready.”

 

“Certainly, sir.”

 

When he tried asking others if they thought Steve was acting differently, no one seemed to understand what Tony meant, and it wasn’t as if he could ask them if Steve was flirting with them, too. Because Steve wasn’t really flirting with him, was he? The fact that Steve’s proximity could make a tingle run down his spine and give a jolt to his cock was his own problem and not that rare an occurrence. The thought of Steve Rogers flirting with him was ridiculous. Perhaps his brain processed everything as sexual simply because for a while now Tony had been without any concrete sexual outlet?

 

Even such a simple thing like Steve leaning over his shoulder close enough so that Tony could feel the heat of Steve’s body on his back, had his cock swell uncomfortably against his zipper. In one particular instance, for example, he had to casually explain a schematic in front of him while Steve was gently pinning Tony’s right arm to the desk. By the point he finished, he wasn’t even sure he was seeing the hologram properly.

 

It wasn’t that unusual for him to be highly aroused in Steve’s presence, but somehow, this time, it felt deliberate, and yet it couldn't have been, because Steve, even though tense, acted as if he never noticed, which Tony felt relieved and disappointed by in almost equal measure.

 

“JARVIS?”

 

“Yes, sir?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

Sometimes, Tony hated his brain, because when analyzing a certain situation, it offered a wide variety of solutions and theoretically, one of the reasons for Steve’s weird behaviour could be that he was interested in bringing their relationship onto a new level, be it romantic or merely sexual. The probability of that was infinitesimally small, but it was there nonetheless, and now, ever since his brain had first presented Tony with this possibility, it kept feeding the tiny dreg of painful hope which felt like a vicious, sharp-clawed animal that was trying to crawl out of his chest.

 

Clearly, it was all complete nonsense, but before he managed to beat the hope-like creature into submission or form any kind of strategy, Steve came up with a new form of torture.

 

“You want us to do what?” Tony asked with dread pooling in the pit of his stomach.

 

Steve had asked him to stay after Avengers post-mission briefing, and Tony severely regretted to have hidden his injury he’d got when Wrecker smashed him into a building during the last few minutes of the fight. He should’ve just gone to medical, maybe then Steve wouldn’t have asked him to do this.

 

“You skipped the training, Tony-”

 

“Well, it's not my fault you scheduled it for the same time I had a critical meeting.”

 

Steve sighed. “I know, Tony, but that doesn't negate the fact that everyone but you has participated in the wrestling workshop and there are certain techniques even Iron Man could benefit from.”

 

“Wrestling with a super soldier? What good will that do?”

 

“You can practise the moves even if you end up in the bottom position every time.”

 

“What?”

 

“It’s the position a wrestler is in when the opponent is in control,” Steve explained in a reasonable voice, although clearly slightly uncomfortable about Tony’s mind going straight into the gutter.

 

“Fine,” Tony said, embarrassed. He fled right after, leaving Steve to his reports.

 

After that he proceeded to jack off at least once a day every day until the anticipated and equally panic-inducing training session arrived. The only upside to the situation was that Steve’s peculiar behaviour effectively broke any lingering hold Metsie might have had over Tony’s feelings. After he’d orgasmed for the first time in his Malibu house, any subspace-like mindset he'd still retained from his online arrangement had evaporated, and even the regret he’d felt over the non-relationship had transformed into acute embarrassment over his own naivete. Unfortunately, it also meant that he was getting caught up in Steve’s spell again, but that was a given to which Tony had resigned himself a long time ago.

 

*

 

Predictably, the first attack-defence move they tried ended up just as in Tony's nightmares (daydreams): with him on his back on the mat with both of his hands held above his head and Steve sitting on his thighs. Vaguely he wondered whether the rules didn’t actually say something about pinning the opponent by the shoulders not hands, but most of his brain power was directed at telling his crotch not to buck up. The next maneuver landed Tony on his stomach and Steve pressing him down in full-body contact from shoulders to knees. Tony’s dick twitched again.

 

The maneuver after maneuver they tried all ended up the same way - Tony beaten and Steve in control. Even if his life depended on it, Tony couldn’t have said if he loved or hated it more, but he’d been half-hard since the start and it was only getting worse. Thank fuck, he’d anticipated it and wore his dance belt again. Under his loose pants, it disguised his predicament quite well.

 

“How does me failing at defence help me to learn the completed movement?” Tony said, trying to sound more grumpy than breathless.

 

“For now, I want you to feel all the points at which you need to try harder. If you show me that you can follow orders, I might allow you to finish in the top position later.” Tony must have imagined the teasing edge to the words, but then Steve added cheekily, “Maybe I’ll even let you have some riding time.”

 

Quickly, Tony glanced at him, and yes - that’s what it looked like - Steve’s trolling face! “Ha, ha,” Tony said.

 

By now, he knew that the term riding time only meant the part of the match where a contestant could control the opponent (which frankly, didn’t sound any less exciting to Tony).  He averted his gaze.

 

“You gonna let me up?” he asked, trying to sound casual.

 

“Sure.”

 

By the time Steve stood up, just after the customary four seconds he usually held Tony in the _bottom position_ , Tony was hard as nails.  On the flipside: the dance belt felt wonderfully tight right at that moment. The flipside of the flipside - it also felt a little humiliating, because Steve, for his part, looked flushed and excited about the workout, but utterly professional.

 

Tony grimaced at how not at all professionally his heart ached and his insides trembled, but despite his emotional turmoil, his stupid cock was still full-mast and painfully throbbing in its tight confines. It would have been quite an exquisite torture if his pleasure hadn't been ruined by the knowledge that Steve wanted none of it.

 

He simply had to make sure that Steve never knew, Tony thought just as Steve swiped his legs out from under him once more. He landed on his back and Steve, still holding onto Tony’s arms, was straddling him in that goddamn _top position_ with Tony’s hard-on now pressed snugly between them.

 

Tony swallowed convulsively and just stared on in horror, while Steve’s reaction was very wide eyes followed by a short, uncontrolled hip movement over Tony’s groin.

 

Tony bit off a moan and ashamed, turned his head away. The long four seconds later Steve had still not scrambled off as Tony had expected. Instead, he stayed for three extra seconds and then in a tight voice whispered, “Tony?”

 

Feeling utterly humiliated, Tony pressed his eyes closed and mutely, shook his head.

 

Quick as lightning, Steve lifted off. “Sorry,” he said in a strangled voice.

 

Mortified, and looking at anything but at Steve, Tony clambered off the mat. “Not,” he mumbled. “Not your fault.”

 

He _couldn’t_ look at Steve. He had to get away before he embarrassed himself even further. Before he begged Steve for forgiveness for being such a horn-dog, which would make it a bigger deal than it was. Because hard-ons weren't a big deal, he _knew_ that. He picked up his water bottle and headed straight for the door.

 

“Tony, wait,” Steve said somewhere behind him, anxiously. “It's fine. It's not a big deal, yeah?”

 

Tony winced, but then he realised that Steve was making an effort to save the situation and Tony couldn’t just abandon him to it. Slowly, he turned around. Steve had a cautious, but studiously friendly expression and a relaxed body-language. It seemed that Steve was determined not to let this ruin their friendship and Tony felt his body sag in relief.

 

“It's a natural reaction,” Steve went on in an almost normal voice. “Don’t worry about it, okay? It’s not as if I’ve never had a stiffy during sparring.”

 

Steve cringed and Tony startled.

 

“You’ve had a what?” _Okay, yeah,_ Tony interpreted, _Steve’s offering an explanation and forgiveness. Sparring’s exciting, adrenaline is flowing and all that rot. Okay. I can deal with this._

 

“Well, you know,” Steve went on, flashing him a controlled, but a nervous smile. “You’re an attractive guy and I’m not a eunuch, Tony.”

 

_Wait- what?_

 

Tony’s breath caught and frozen in place, he stared. What was Steve saying exactly? The silence stretched on. Tony should acknowledge it. Say thank you? Return the compliment? Make a joke out of it? Something?

 

“Tony?” Steve sounded even more uncomfortable now. “Are you… It’s not… it's just an observation. Proof that I’m not blind, but it’s not as if anything has to change. I’m still your friend and I’m hoping that you’re still mine?”

 

_Yours. Even if you don't want me, I'm yours. Yes._

 

“Yes,” was all Tony managed out loud. They were okay. It wasn’t a big deal, they would be okay. He cleared his throat. “Still friends. Sure. Always.” He attempted an answering smile and Steve’s expression relaxed a fraction.

 

“So we’re okay?” Steve repeated. “As far as I’m concerned, physical reactions have no bearing on our friendship. How's that sound?”

 

“Of course,” Tony quickly agreed. “Physical reactions are fine. Obviously.” He gestured to his crotch. “It’s fine, doesn’t have to be a big deal.”

 

“Good,” Steve replied. “Thank you.”

 

_Thank you?_ Tony thought hysterically but nodded regardless.

 

Steve walked up to the punching bags and hefted one up.

 

“Have you eaten dinner?” he asked as if nothing had happened. As if Tony’s mind wasn’t reeling from the realization that Steve apparently thought he was attractive. At least he said-? Granted, it was probably in an objective, totally straight, platonic way- That… didn’t sound right either, but it was safer not to think about it just yet. It’s not as if it would ever lead to anything-

 

“No, not yet,” his mouth remembered to reply to Steve’s inquiry. “But I might need to finish up with something at the workshop-”

 

“No.”

 

“What?”

 

Steve turned to look at him. For a moment there was something uncertain about his expression, but then it relaxed into a calm decisive expression and he went on, “No. I want you to eat first. Then you can finish up with whatever you need to, but don’t work for longer than an hour. After that, you’ll go to bed and sleep until seven. Okay?”

 

Tony blinked. Swallowed. He should tell Steve that he was his own man and didn’t need anyone micromanaging his life. “Okay?” was what came out of his mouth, instead.

 

“Promise me.”

 

Steve’s eyes were intent on his and Tony couldn’t look away.

 

“Okay.” Even though still confused and wobbly, he turned around and managed to get out of the door. It was only in the shower, when the warm water hit him in the face, that he started wondering what the hell had just happened.

 

For some reason, it was impossible to deny Steve anything when he was using that tone of voice. Most of the time, Steve used it on the unsuspecting civilians, who he wanted out of the harm’s way, or delinquent students he tried to motivate to stay in their classes, so it felt a bit humiliating to succumb so readily to Captain America’s charms like this. But it also felt strangely good. It felt as if Steve cared. As if he wanted to take care of Tony; to make sure he got food and rest and-

 

_Enough._

 

Tony wouldn’t give in to fancy. He would do as he promised, exactly as he promised in fact, but he wouldn’t confuse it with anything more than what it was. Steve was being a good team leader and a friend. For now, Tony would let himself believe that that’s all there was.

 

Then why did it fill him with so much dread?

  
  
  
It was just after he'd gone to bed and he felt the sweet urge to touch himself, that the shock of the realization hit him. The reason Steve’s actions affected him like this, was because it made him feel exactly like he did on those occasions that Metsie took care of him. The fake sense of security Steve’s care brought him was a cruel caricature of what Tony had once thought he’d had with Metsie. He shouldn’t accept it from Steve, he told himself. He shouldn’t. And yet, there was no way he could say no to it. Turning onto his side, Tony hid his face into the pillow and pretended that there wasn't a sob fighting its way out of his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: There's a slight case of Steve underestimating how strongly he is affecting Tony, so it might be considered a dub-con if you are sensitive. But no actual sexual or even intimate acts take place. Tony is just easy for Steve and Steve is oblivious, so a subspace and a subdrop happen without Steve none the wiser.  
> Thank you for reading. Leave me love? :)


	9. Remove the rope

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Just like in the last chapter Steve misjudges how much his actions can hurtle Tony straight into subspace and Tony is doing everything he can to hide it, so there’re possible dub-conny feels.
> 
> IMPORTANT: I'm so sorry about taking this long to answer all the comments, I've cherished (and reread) all of them. The reason it took me so long was that all my emotional strength went into my real life and writing and at times there was just nothing left in me to even attempt communicating. That is also the reason for the random order I've replied, some got the reply the same day and some a week later and it just depended on how tired I was when I opened my email and saw your lovely comment. Please don't think that it was less important to me if you received my reply later than someone that wrote me later, but got the reply sooner. I really, really appreciated it even if I had no energy to reply. Thank you so much for your continuous support! <3<3<3
> 
> THANK YOU: Loran for the faithful beta work and LovelyIKnow and athletiger for lending a hand :)
> 
> And now to the chapter - you wanted more pain, right? *Shoves all the anguish and pain she's managed to hoard into this chapter straight at you* Here, take more! :D

 

The next week was hard. Tony was avoiding Steve to give them both time. He hoped that when they talked next, they could not only pretend that nothing of import had happened, but that they’d also feel like it really hadn’t.

 

He still hadn’t decided whether he was ready to talk to Steve or not when JARVIS informed him that Captain Rogers was heading towards the workshop.

 

“Tony,” came a friendly voice from the glass door not a minute later.

 

Despite how his fingers suddenly twitched nervously and his heart stuttered in his chest, Tony managed to flash Steve a casually friendly smile, glance up only briefly and, a coward that he was, lower his gaze back to his tinkering as if he were terribly busy.

 

“You’ve been holed up here for almost a week,” Steve said with a smile in his voice. “Thought I’d offer you some adult company.”

 

Tony’s head jerked up. “What?” he croaked.

 

Steve’s face broke into a full out grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I meant… your bots - I tent to think of them as your children sometimes.”

 

Steve laughed, and even though he felt slightly foolish and out of his depth, Tony imitated him. 

 

For a while, Tony thought that that had been the worst of it, the whole awkwardness behind them and he could calmly go back to the modification of DUM-E’s chassis while Steve was sketching something, but then they got to talking and, being the idiot that Tony was, he asked Steve about what he had been up to lately. As if he didn’t know what Steve did with his time.

 

Turned out, he didn’t.

 

“What do you mean you’ve picked up tying knots?” Tony asked, frowning. “Like the Boy Scouts? You surprise me, Cap!” He grinned, finally feeling in his own element again, and joked, “A truly shocking behaviour.”

 

Radiating excitement, Steve smiled back. “Here, let me show you.” Steve got up from the sofa, stepped up to Tony and holding his palm out, asked, “May I?”

 

Having no idea what Steve expected of him, Tony nodded and reached out his hand.

 

Without further ado, Steve took a hold of his wrist. Fortunately, the electric jolt Steve’s touch shot through his whole body remained as invisible to the naked eye as the twitch that his cock gave.

 

“What are you doing?” he mumbled in an attempt to cover his shock as he watched Steve take a short piece of a thin rope out of his pocket and wrap it twice around Tony’s wrist.

 

“Showing you a quick, but a very nice-looking little knot,” Steve replied, staring intently at the rope work he was doing.

 

Steve pulled the two ends through the coils that were wrapped snugly, but not painfully tight, around Tony’s wrist, and after a short manipulation finished them up in a small knot that somehow resembled a neat little flower.

 

Very decorative, Tony thought, exhaling, but his tongue had turned heavy, his mouth dry and he couldn’t make his lips shape the words. Vaguely, he also felt his cock stiffening, but it was only a secondary sensation next to the overwhelming peace and quiet descending over his mind like a blanket.

 

Tony recognized the feeling - he was slowly sinking into subspace and that he could under no circumstances afford. He straightened in his seat and was just about to say something blithe, when in a quick movement that was almost faster than Tony’s eyes could detect, Steve pulled the ends of the rope through a metal loop in Tony’s workbench and executed the exact same three maneuvers that formed the flower the first time, effectively tethering Tony to his own workstation. His cock was suddenly raging in the confines of his pants, begging for him to adjust himself, to touch and caress and- Tony couldn’t.

 

Of course, he couldn’t with Steve sitting right in front of him, rubbing his index finger over the delicate, but somehow sturdy-looking knot just on the inside of Tony’s wrist and with acute jealousy, Tony wished he’d touch his skin, instead. Tony cleared his throat and with a slight startle, Steve looked up from his handiwork.

 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Steve said, his voice low. 

 

“Yes,” Tony agreed, still looking down at his bound hand, and trying not to squirm.

 

“And so easy to do,” Steve went on, totally oblivious to Tony's plight. “There’s lots more I've learned, but this is the one that could also demonstrate why I love it.”

 

He drew his hand back, and Tony felt as if a warm blanket was pulled off his freezing body. He shivered.

 

“It’s also easy to go on from one wrist to the other with two lovely roses between the hands,” Steve explained in a quiet voice, and it was all Tony could do to stay afloat and not just let the voice wash over him, leaving him in a whimpering, needy mess. 

 

How did Steve even do that to him? Subspace had never been so easy to achieve before, especially not with someone else physically present.

 

“You okay?” Steve asked, and with a jerk, Tony raised his head. “It's not too tight, is it?”

 

“No,” Tony assured him, swallowing drily. “Not too tight.”

 

“Tony, are you feeling okay? You look…” Steve seemed to be searching for a word.

 

Tony thought he should try and snap out of it, Steve was getting worried. He shouldn’t make Steve worry.

 

“Wait,” Steve said, “Is it…?” He glanced at Tony’s bound wrist, then back to Tony again, and startled. “Oh! Let me just…” With a quick flick of his fingers, Steve untied the second knot from the metal loop. “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked you before doing that. Better?”

 

Feeling slightly adrift, but also more in control of himself, Tony nodded. “Fine.” He pulled his hand back into his lap, wishing he could press it on his crotch.

 

Steve was still peering intently into his eyes. “Yeah? I've learned to distrust that word when coming  out of your mouth.”

 

Tony smiled. “Fair. But I'm really okay, Steve.” Unless he counted the raging hard-on he was shielding under the edge of his workstation. Tony tried to compose his thoughts into some coherence. “You didn't hurt me, Steve. I was just surprised. Finding out that Captain America is into bondage would throw anyone off.” 

 

Tony wasn't sure if he expected Steve to frown and ask what the hell bondage was, or to sputter and deny it, but he definitely hadn't expected him to blush violent red and duck his head. 

 

“Yeah,” Steve said, and suddenly the knowledge that Steve was embarrassed, that Steve was uncomfortable slammed into Tony like a sledgehammer.

 

He shouldn’t have made Steve uncomfortable. Steve should never feel bad about anything especially because of something Tony said.

 

“No-no, it’s-” he started, but Steve cut him off.

 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done it like-”

 

“-fine. I’m fine. You didn’t do anything wr-” Tony insisted, almost stuttering, but Steve wasn’t listening.

 

“Tony.”

 

“I didn’t mind,” Tony tried to interject. “I don’t mind-”

 

“Tony, stop.” Steve started to reach out for Tony’s wrist, but Tony jerked it away and babbled on.

 

“-at all. In fact, you can do it any time you-”

 

Wait. What?

 

“What?” Steve said, staring at him inscrutably.

 

“-wish.” The pause was awkward, but if he’d already given himself away, Tony figured there was little he could do to fix it anyway. Steve already knew he got turned on by wrestling. “I…like being tied up, you like doing it… We’re friends, we trust each other. I don’t really see how it could go wrong.”  _ Except for the fact that the best bondage is done nude and you’re not going to even want to see my physical reactions. Except for the fact that I love you and you’re just in it for the kink. _ Tony could do it though. He could.

 

For a second more Steve just stared at Tony, blinked, shook his head, and said, “Did you just…” He trailed off, swallowed and visibly gathering himself, went on, “Did you say that you’d let me tie you up? Or did I misunderstand?”

 

The intensity of Steve’s gaze had Tony dry-swallowing a couple of times before he could answer. “Obviously,” he confirmed with what felt like mindless bravery. “Unless you want it the other way around? No-no, of course not, you said- Obviously, you’re the rope top, not a bottom. Yeah? Not that I couldn’t tie you up if you wanted to, I’d like that too. Obviously, but I’m usually a bottom. Did you know that they sometimes call it rope bunny? Though I seriously resent the-”

 

“Tony,” Steve cut in, looking stunned.

 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Tony accused. “All wide-eyed and amazed as if suddenly seeing bunnies on a rainbow? Or is it because you’ve never met a rope bunny before? Not on a rainbow though, that was a silly- although, like I said, or at least I wanted to say before I was so rudely interrupted, that I resent the term. I’m as far from a bunny as one rope bottom can be. If anything, I’m a rope-”

 

“Turtle,” Steve inserted, nodding sagely.

 

“What?” Tony blinked. “No! Rope turtl- What are you even-?”

 

“Turtle is as far from a bunny as I can imagine,” Steve delivered, deadpan.

 

“Algae,” Tony interjected.

 

“What?”

 

“Algae.  A large, diverse group of photosynthetic eukaryotic organisms. You know, the green stuff in the water. Flora, fauna, whatever. That’s even more removed from a bunny than a turtle would be. ”

 

Steve stared at him mutely. Then his lips started twitching and Tony lost control of his own lips and laughed. Steve joined him and Tony suddenly felt so light as if he could float away if not for the string burning deliciously around his left wrist, grounding him to-

 

Steve wasn’t his dom. He never would be. Tony’s laugh cut off as suddenly as it had started and he thought that he should ask Steve to remove the binding.

 

He cleared his throat. “Well, if you wanted a rope model, you could’ve just asked-”

 

“Rope model?” The sudden sparkle in Steve’s eyes shot straight into Tony’s groin and he shifted uneasily to keep from touching himself.

 

“It’s just one more word that they use,” he said, embarrassed. “Believe me, I am very well aware that I’m no model these days-”

 

“Tony-”

 

Tony contained his sigh and barrelled on, “But if you ever need someone discreet, someone you can-” Tony wished he’d never opened his mouth because this was getting out of hand. This was not something Tony could survive-

 

“Tony, would you-”

 

“-trust to practise some rigging on-” He should’ve just kept his mouth shut.

 

“Tony, stop!”

 

Tony closed his mouth with a click.

 

For a moment Steve stared, surprised. “Damn that felt good.”

 

“What?” Slowly, Tony tilted his head.

 

“Me telling you to stop and seeing you do it.”

 

Involuntarily, like they always did, Tony’s lips curled into a small smile. “Don’t count on it happening very often.”  _ Liar. _

 

Steve flashed him such a sunny smile that Tony’s breath caught and his fingers trailed the string of rope around his left wrist again. Steve’s eyes dropped to it too, and Tony made himself let go.

 

“Oh, I know, believe me, I know,” Steve said. “That’s why I’m trying to soak up every moment of it.”

 

Tony started to smile back but told himself to tone it down. “I meant what I said though,” he said, all serious again. “If you want to practise…” He left it there because the next step would be begging and he wouldn’t do that.

 

Steve visibly shivered and Tony started to think that maybe he could really have this - Steve’s undivided attention, if only for a little while, until Steve found someone to tie up who he also loved. Sure, Steve seemed absolutely thrilled at the thought of doing so with Tony, but he was practically a kink virgin, so it wasn’t as if it could really last even if Steve agreed-

 

“I would be honoured if you’d agreed to be my rope model, Tony.”

 

Tony felt his stomach come alive with butterflies. “You would?” he blurted.

 

“Yes, Tony. I would. But only if you want to.”

 

_ If I want to? God. _

 

Steve was still peering into Tony’s eyes as if to gauge any reluctance in them and Tony felt exposed and raw and dying inside because that was so-

 

He should remove the rope bracelet before he tumbled fully into this pit of madness, want and longing; this crazy notion that maybe there was something more Steve might want that Tony was offering. Had been offering for years.  _ Fuck, but I’m pathetic. Of course, he doesn’t want anything more - anyone discovering a shiny new kink would look at their potential play partner like that. _ He really should get the rope off his wrist now. It felt too much like a promise he wasn’t getting.  _ I should tell him no _ , was the last rational thought Tony had before agreeing to go to Steve’s room the upcoming weekend for what would probably turn out to be a day-long rope session.

 

_ Fuck. _

 

*

 

Tony knew he should have taken the rope off as soon as Steve left or maybe even asked Steve to do it, seeing as he himself was pathetically unable to do so. Now it had been four days and the snugness of it around his wrist felt like a gentle reminder of everything he couldn't have. 

 

The binding made him feel a connection to Steve, and at the same time, it represented the barrier between what their relationship was and what Tony really wanted.

 

Despite the conflicting emotions, Tony couldn't bear the thought of untying it. He wore it hidden under his long sleeves and was developing a habit of stroking it through his shirt even though it was so snug that he felt it constantly without any touch at all. When in the privacy of his room, he rubbed it, stared at it and sometimes just circled it with his other hand. The thought of the empty feeling it would inevitably leave when he finally had to remove it, seemed too bleak to contemplate.

 

*

 

In mute horror, Steve stared at himself in the mirror.

 

What. The. Hell.

 

He wasn’t usually into admiring himself in the mirror, but this time he felt that he  _ had _ to look at the despicable human being who was not only currently deceiving his best friend about having a six-month-long cyber relationship with him, but seemed to be also planning to betray his trust in the absolute worst possible way.

 

How the hell did he let that happen?

 

_ But Tony would never know _ , a part of his subconscious whispered from the deep dark.  _ If he never finds out it will never hurt him and that’s the important thing here. No one would know. _

 

Instantly, another, louder part of Steve thought, _ I would _ .

 

Besides, there were long-term goals to consider, not just a one-off bondage session. He had three days to sort this out. Three days to think of how to tell Tony that they weren’t doing this. Three days to make up a plausible excuse to not have a willing, naked Tony Stark under his hands doing whatever Steve told him to do, submitting to his instructions, probably getting hard and maybe leaking and trembling-  _ And maybe,  _ the darkest and nastiest part of him whispered to him again,  _ maybe he’d not only let you touch, but he’d also  _ beg  _ you for it. _

 

_ Oh God,  _ Steve thought desperately,  _ what's  _ wrong _ with me? _

 

*

 

When the time came for their session, Tony debated simply untying the rope bracelet, but in the end, he couldn’t. Somehow it felt as if it wasn’t his place to untie it, and wasn’t that a mindfuck? Gazing at it, he once again caressed it lovingly, and in one sharp move, brought his pocket knife to it. Cut off, the ends dangled from his fingers, the beautiful knot lifeless, as if having lost its power. Tony opened his bedside drawer and let the bracelet fall.

 

* 

 

There was only one thing to do really, Steve thought, as he tightened and released a knot he was tying on a piece of a thin rope: the twin flower to the one he’d put on Tony’s wrist. Steve wondered how long Tony had worn the rope bracelet before he’d taken it off. Did he remove it right after Steve had left or did he keep it till the evening? The idea, that he might have just left it there till bed, warmed Steve, but honestly, how likely was that? Even if Tony had kept it longer, it would just mean that he didn’t care about it enough to remember he had it. For a second, the grief for things he’d never even had, threatened to suffocate him, but he shook it off.

 

The decision about what to do was there when he woke up the next morning. The clarity was terrible, but he also felt lighter. Steve was not a coward, so whatever would happen, he would do the right thing.

 

He would tell Tony the whole truth.

 

Yes. Steve untied the knot and tried another one. This time, he took a thicker rope, sat down on the floor in front of a chair and tried a double clinch knot on its legs.

 

He’d just have to make sure that Tony understood that while Steve fucked up, he’d never meant to hurt Tony. And most importantly, Steve would tell Tony that he was cared for. Loved. It was the least Steve could do at this point. He owed Tony after all his stupid head games. It’d been so idiotic to even try that. He’d known Tony’s sexual inclinations, he should have just told him right away after seeing that damned tie. Why hadn’t he just told him?

 

In hindsight, Steve felt that however small a chance that Tony would have agreed to come on a date with him or try a real-life play, the probability of both options had dropped drastically after the month that Steve had been acting like a fucking fool.

 

Steve untied the ends from the chair and started again. He imagined what it would feel like to do that to Tony: to put ropes on him that Tony would not remove himself even if he could, kept them on until  _ Steve _ allowed them removed. The idea of never having Tony like that was torturous. His hand clenched around the wooden chair leg he was holding.

 

Even if the odds were against him, he would try to make Tony see. Under his fingers, the leg chair cracked.

 

*

 

The moment Tony saw Steve’s face, he knew.

 

“You’re not going to do it,” he said flatly, standing near the door, having lost the courage to step any further into the room.

 

Steve stood on the other side of it with a face of a proud general facing the firing squad and everything in Tony crumbled. He had to school his features to keep from breaking down then and there. He gave Steve a tight smile. “It’s fine,” he said, “I understand.” The physical sensation of disappointment was so strong it felt as if it was pressing in on him from all directions. There was a faint feeling of nausea in his throat.

 

Why had he ever thought that Steve would go for it? Want him like that? You didn’t generally want to put your hands on your naked best friend no matter how attractive you objectively found him.

 

Mentally, Tony snorted at himself. He’d actually made up a whole speech as to why he would get a stiffy during bondage and how Steve should pay zero attention to it. But of course, Steve had already figured that part out. In fact, Steve being uncomfortable with the ease with which Tony’s physique ‘reacted’ was probably the reason he was rejecting Tony’s offer in the first place. It wasn't like Steve would ever want to deal with Tony's shameful erections.

 

Tony refused to try to rub off the feeling of loss around his empty wrist.

 

“I’m sorry, Tony,” Steve started, but before he could go on, Tony interjected, “I understand. It’s fine.” (It didn’t feel fine.) He nodded and, without looking at Steve, turned to go.

 

“No, wait.” In a blink of an eye, Steve was standing between him and the door. “Let me explain,” he said.

 

“No need,” Tony said, trying to match Steve’s intent gaze.

 

“No, I want to. You deserve a proper explanation,” Steve insisted.

 

Wanting nothing more than to push Steve aside and get out of there, Tony stood, frozen to the spot, unable to back away or move forward. “I’d prefer it if you didn’t,” he said tightly.

 

Steve frowned. “What? Why?”

 

He searched Tony’s eyes and it was all Tony could do to remain impassive. He must have failed because the next moment Steve’s face cleared and he stepped closer to put his hands on Tony’s shoulders.

 

“I know you’re disappointed,” Steve said. “But it’s really for the best.”

 

Now Tony did snort.

 

“No, really,” Steve said again, his lips quirking in what Tony usually interpreted as regret. Probably regret over Tony being so unreasonable. “I’m sorry. It’s  _ not _ because that I don’t want to-”

 

His hackles up, Tony stepped back out of Steve’s reach. “No, don’t-” He couldn’t listen to this. He looked away so that he wouldn’t have to see Steve lie. Steve was always so transparent.

 

“No, really, I do, Tony. I do want to,” Steve continued his voice all wrong.

 

“Don’t lie,” Tony stopped him harshly. “Don’t you try and fucking lie, Rogers,” he said, looking back at Steve.

 

Tony noticed that there were pinkish shadows under Steve’s eyes as if the serum was working overtime to cover for the fact that he hadn’t been sleeping. Tony had to concede that it probably wasn't easy for Steve either. In fact, behind his bullheaded determination, he looked so tired and miserable that Tony’s anger instantly evaporated.

 

“Look, Steve, you’re into bondage, but not into me,” he said. “I get it. We can’t be all as indiscriminate with the choice of our play partners as I am. It's fine.”

 

Vehemently, Steve started shaking his head even before Tony got to the end, but what he was objecting to in particular, was anybody’s guess.

 

“No, Tony. No it's not.” He grimaced. “I need to… Would you sit down? Please? I need to tell you something.”

 

Despite the pleading words, Steve looked as if he was preparing for an argument and Tony didn’t feel like fighting him, so he nodded. Let Steve say his ‘sorrys’ and his ‘it’s not yous’ and then he’d go. Tony squared his shoulders, walked up to the sofa and sat.

 

Steve didn’t follow him. Instead, he was still standing on the other side of the room, stone-faced with the attempt to hide his misery, but he didn’t look like he planned to hurt his friend with a ‘I like you but not like that’ speech. For some reason, behind Steve’s grim demeanour, he looked guilty and nervous, and with a mounting dread, Tony realized that he might need to steel himself for something far more serious than a simple rejection.

 

“Thank you,” Steve said, although he didn’t seem very happy with Tony’s acquiescence. Steve’s fists were clenched at his sides and he was looking down at his feet.

 

For a minute, Tony waited. Involuntarily, his fingers circled his wrist where just an hour ago was a safety line he'd fooled himself into believing had meant something. But that had been a false hope he couldn’t afford. 

 

Decisively, he raised his eyes to Steve. “I'm listening.”

 

Without looking at him, Steve nodded. “I wasn’t lying when I said that it wasn’t you,” he started, still standing near the door as if guarding it against Tony's escape or as if he were on the brink of running away himself. “Believe me, Tony, I really, really want to. It’s just that I… There's something you don't- You should know about it before we do anything like… what we talked about. And if, by some miracle, after we’ve talked, you still want to go through with it, I would love for us to have that rope session.”

 

Tony’s heart fluttered at the reassurance, but at the same time, Steve’s halting speech unsettled him.

 

“It’s fine, Steve,” Tony wasn’t sure it was true any more, but what else was he supposed to say? “Believe me, whatever it is, it’s going to be fine. You can tell me anything.”

 

Steve flushed, with what looked an awful lot like shame and he scowled. His hands spasmed and his right went into his trouser pocket as if to fiddle with something.

 

“I should’ve told you a long time ago,” Steve started, “but I chose a coward’s way out and you deserve better.” Determinedly, he lifted his head to look Tony in the eye. “I apologize. Hiding the truth from you was beneath the man I aim to be.”

 

“You’re not dying, are you?” Tony blurted. “Serum working alright?”

 

Steve’s eyes widened. “No! I mean - no, that’s not it. I’m not dying and yes, the serum’s working.” He exhaled noisily and took three purposeful steps towards Tony. Sitting down on the other sofa near Tony, Steve gave him a reassuring, albeit brief, smile. “It’s nothing like that. Don’t worry.”

 

“Then what is it?” Tony found that Steve’s reassurance only calmed some of his fears. 

 

Steve’s hands rubbed once over his thighs. When he spoke next, his eyes were filled with such regret and longing that Tony’s heart constricted. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-” Steve said, his voice trembling. “I didn’t mean for it to happen like this, I swear. I didn’t know the whole time, I only realized when… I only when I saw your tie.”

 

“My tie…?” Tony’s words drifted off as his hand flew to his chest where he had no tie whatsoever because he’d dressed for comfort before coming to Steve’s. But as an incident involving a tie from a while ago flickered to life in front of his eyes, a sliver of horrified understanding started to form a knot in the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?” he uttered, shocked.

 

Steve shook his head. “I’m doing this all wrong.” He stood up again, his one hand coming up to rub his mouth in agitation, the other resting on his hip. He looked down at Tony. “I’m so sorry, Tony. I didn’t want you to find out like this.” He chuckled mirthlessly. “To tell you the truth, I didn’t want you to find out at all, but it was incredibly stupid of me and unfair. The situation has gotten out of hand.” He paused and added more quietly, “I should’ve told you when I found out, I know that.”

 

“Nouns? Some nouns would be helpful...”

 

Inside his head, Tony babbled on, but his mouth was dry and instead of coming out in their usual torrent, the words stayed lodged in his throat. The momentary quiet was deafening as Steve stepped away from the sofa and slipped his hand into his right trouser pocket again. In a nervous gesture, Steve’s other hand slid over his hair as if to flatten it as he would've in the forties. It would’ve been endearing had Tony not been so scared. Scared of how a number of seemingly innocuous little facts and what he’d thus far had boldly dubbed stupid coincidences were slotting neatly into their places in his brain.

 

“Steve,” Tony said, trying to keep dread out of his voice, but that was as far as he got before Steve started talking as if any interruption might make him lose his courage too.

 

“The last half a year has been… confusing. For me. I... don’t really know how else to say it, so I’m just going to come out with it.” Steve turned around and stepped closer to the sofa. When he raised his eyes to Tony’s, they were full of utter misery and tired defeat. “It was me. On the Internet, the… cyber thing... I’m Met-”

 

“Yes, I get it,” Tony interrupted.

 

Steve froze for a moment, then nodded. “I’m sorry. You’ve no idea how much.”

 

_ Yeah. Sorry. _ Of course, Steve was sorry. Detachedly, Tony watched as Steve finally took his hand out of his pocket and taking a seat, slid a small dark red rectangular object over the table between them. It wasn’t a surprise, but it was still a shock to see the remote he’d modified a little more than a month ago. He remembered modifying and packaging it; remembered cradling it in his hand while anticipating the upcoming pleasure Metsie would bestow upon him.  _ And Steve was sorry about it. _

 

“I swear I didn’t know the whole time,” Steve said, pleadingly. “I swear-”

 

God, what a brilliant idea this whole affair turned out to be! Find an online dom, tell him stuff, confuse the game with real life. Idiocy level: pathetic. Why were his best ideas always also his worst?

 

“You’ve known for a month,” Tony commented emotionlessly.

 

“Yes,” he heard, but he was feeling too humiliated to look at Steve.

 

“So when you agreed to tie me up…?” The remote on the smooth top of the desk was mocking him.

 

“I knew. Yes.”

 

“Why?” Tony asked with morbid curiosity, but not for the reason behind the rope session, because that was obvious to anyone with half a brain, but he wanted to hear how Steve would go about explaining it. Would Steve call him attractive? Desirable? Or was it really just about submission?

 

Steve’s small smile was self-deprecating. “Because I was weak,” he said. Then, as if the words were rushing out of Steve in relief of a confession, he quickly went on, “Because I wanted to. Oh God, how I wanted to. Have you even seen yourself? You’re…” With bated breath Tony waited for the adjective, but it seemed that Steve had no compliments for him. “And your submission has meant the world to me,” Steve went on. “You have no idea how much. It was… something I’ve really wanted for a long time, so when you offered… I know I should’ve said no, but... For a moment it really seemed that I could actually have it and-”

 

“I understand,” Tony interrupted, not being able to take it anymore.

 

Of course, Tony understood. It was more or less what he’d expected: Steve wanted to try domming, the online option felt safe. He played for a bit and liked it. He was so good at it, so of course, he liked it. But then his online partner turned out to be… Tony’s teeth clenched. He felt as if an icy shard sliced sharply into his gut and started sawing away at his stomach. The knowledge that Steve had dumped him the moment he found out who his play partner was, was a burning agony that would probably leave a wound as permanent as Steve’s name carved into Tony’s heart. He thought that he should stand up and leave, but sitting up straight without doubling over was the best he could do for the moment.

 

Obliviously, Steve spoke on.

“What I’m gearing up to say is… these past months of play  _ have _ meant the world to me and…The way I feel about... it. It’s… Tony,” Steve said taking a deep breath as if fortifying himself for something monumental. “Tony-”

 

“Stop,” Tony said. He didn’t think he could take any more revelations. It was too much. “I don't want to hear it,” he said, full of conviction that whatever Steve wanted to say could wait.

 

“No, Tony. I need to say this.”

 

“I don’t care!” Tony levelled his stare at Steve. “You’ve said enough! Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear it! There is absolutely  _ nothing _ you could possibly say that would make this fucked up situation any better. From this point on, any heart-to-heart you could possibly divulge can only make it worse. Okay, Steve? So, just… don’t.”

 

Tony stared at Steve until he saw the moment Steve gave up. All the determination slipped off his face, his sharp features slackening, the light in his eyes fading. Steve turned his head away and nodded at the wall. They sat like this one moment more, then Tony nodded to himself and got up.

 

“You should’ve just asked me,” Tony said dully, as for the second time that night he turned to go.

 

“I know.” Steve’s voice was equally dull. “I fucked up.”

 

“You did.” Tony reached the door, opened it and told it, “You never know, before you let it drag on, I might’ve just agreed to whatever you wanted.” His lips quirked sardonically. Now though... Now it felt ruined. Whatever they could’ve had. Even if it would’ve been just a fuckbuddy thing- Just this morning Tony would’ve done  _ anything _ to have that with Steve.

 

He stepped out the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading!  
> <3


	10. (Choose) the time and form

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, it took me two whole weeks, but here it is now. As you can see, this is still not the last chapter, but, thankfully, the weather's clearing up and for the first time ever I actually feel that the next one will be the last. I didn't want to have a too abrupt ending, because healing is also a factor, but maybe now we are finally there?  
> If you're still reading, thank you for sticking with this story. :)

*o*O*o*

It took three days of ignoring the whole situation before he stormed into Steve’s studio, took in the other man’s ratty paint-stained clothes and demanded, “Tell me about the wrestling thing. What exactly was the objective there?”

 

Up until finding out that Steve was Metsie and was  _ lying _ about it, Tony had never once thought that there could ever be a situation in which he would feel even more humiliated than when getting caught with a stiffie in a simple wrestling workshop, but the knowledge that Steve had actually been aware that what he was doing would excite Tony, made him angry. That the whole time, that maybe- no, not maybe; Steve had most definitely been turning Tony on  _ on purpose _ and when he achieved what he’d set out to do, he’d acted as if it wasn’t a big deal and he could be the bigger person about it; it didn’t make Tony angry: it made him  _ livid. _

 

Steve’s startled demeanour morphed into guilt and then a closed-off mask and Tony wanted to  _ hit _ him.

 

“The objective was... it wasn’t…” Steve started. “I… definitely not whatever you’re thinking,” he finished decisively.

 

“Yeah? And what am I thinking then?” Tony said challengingly.

 

Steve swallowed, as he put his brush away and wrapped it into a cleaning rag which for some reason irked Tony even further. As if a proper maintenance of one’s painting tools was more important than resolving this situation.

 

“Going by your face...” Steve shook his head. “It wasn’t to make fun of you,” he settled on, but didn’t elaborate.

 

“No?” Tony let out a bitter laugh and continued with cool calm, “After I came back from Malibu you’d been flirting with me. JARVIS said that almost thirty-seven per cent of everything you’ve said to me over the last month could be construed as flirting.” He’d asked JARVIS about it a week ago and got the updated figures for that whole period up until the rope thing that never was.

 

“You flirt with people all the time,” Steve said as if trying to sound reasonable.

 

Tony’s lips curved in a bitter scowl. “But  _ you  _ don’t.” He wanted to kick, punch and claw at Steve for making him feel like this. “At least you haven’t before. Previously it’s been under six percent, I asked JARVIS to analyze. And he also says that the increase only applied to your interactions with me.”  _ I thought you might be interested. A part of me actually thought you might be interested. In me _ . What a pathetic fool he’d been.

 

So Steve wasn’t trying to make fun of him. Fine. Tony hadn’t actually thought that anyway, but it had all been a game nevertheless. An exercise in flirtation. Maybe to try and see if the kink worked the same way in real life as it did through a virtual filter. Testing a theory. Practising. Learning the art of dominating. Something anyone with a strategizing mind would’ve done. It made sense.

 

Besides, Steve probably hadn’t meant for it to work as well as it had. After all, he had no idea how Tony felt about him. Maybe he’d even thought that Han had exaggerated about how much he’d enjoyed the game, so Steve had wanted to find out for himself? And maybe it had been duplicitous, but Tony understood the need to know. After all, it would’ve been alright if Tony could’ve controlled his emotions better. In another set of circumstances, Tony could’ve maybe enjoyed the chase: all that double talk and the looming, the half-accidental bondage... It had all felt good on some level. Obviously.

 

A little bit of flirtation and innuendo wouldn’t have ruined anything if only Tony-

 

Steve was saying something, but Tony wasn’t listening. The hurt he felt was tiring, and now it was upgrading itself into far more of an icy bitterness and resignation. Tony cut Steve off.

 

“Fine. You fucked up. You are sorry. I get it.” He walked to the door and put his hand on the handle. “I’m sorry too. I’m just not sure it changes anything.” Exiting in a measured pace, he didn’t bang the door.

 

*

 

When the ‘ping’ went off, Steve was jogging. At first, he decided to ignore it because if it were a call to assemble, the sound would be different, but then he started thinking about who would message him in the first place. Sam did sometimes, but he usually would be asleep this early in the morning. Steve decreased the speed and fished his phone out of his armband.

 

Tony.

 

Steve’s heart skipped a beat and he came to a halt. Why would Tony text him? For a split second, Steve thought of not reading it, but of course it was silly, he’d only worry about it if he didn’t.

 

_ If you ever find someone you want to play with in RL, would you please consider using my lawyers to draw up a non-disclosure agreement? Just in case. _

 

Steve stared at his phone. 

 

Why would Tony start thinking about Steve’s possible play partners now? The last time they spoke was fourteen days ago. Steve shook his head and grimaced. He should stop interpreting everything Tony did as a sign that he was on the path of forgiving Steve. It was the first time Tony made any voluntary attempt at communication and it wasn’t even in person. Still. Might be progress? On the other hand, if Steve got clumsily caught in a sex scandal he’d be dragging the whole team down, so it would make sense for Tony to take precautions. 

 

Steve put the phone away and took up his pace again.

 

Why now? Was Tony actively trying to find play partners for himself and thought that Steve might use his expertise? Has Tony used such contracts before? Steve tried to shake this thought off, but it was like a nasty fly circling him in cloying weather. The image of Tony moaning under some faceless shithead’s administrations, straining for their touch, begging for their permission...

In a burst of speed, Steve leapt over the low wall of the park and turned towards the road.

 

He had to stop thinking about that. He had no right to think about that. Tony wasn’t his.  Damn. Why did his thoughts have to go in circles, always coming back to that same tired realization?

 

_ You should’ve told him _ , a tiny voice whispered to him.  _ You should’ve told him right away. _

 

And now it was too late. Tony was refusing to listen. It had been almost two weeks of Steve knocking on doors and trying to catch Tony to talk to him, but most probably he was using JARVIS to make sure their paths in the tower didn’t cross.

 

Oh, god, JARVIS. By hurting Tony, Steve had managed to piss JARVIS off so thoroughly, that he only ever answered direct questions in this painfully polite and formal way, calling him ‘Captain’, and anywhere that Steve was in the tower by himself, all the clocks (including the one on his phone) were behind by an hour and seventeen minutes. It took him twice being late to his obligations before he caught on and when he asked JARVIS about it, the AI apologized, said that there was an unexplained bug in his servers and that the situation was being dealt with. The clocks were still consistently wrong and even when Steve corrected it on his phone, it somehow aligned back the moment he stepped over the tower threshold. Steve was almost sure Tony had no idea it was happening, and no one else in the tower certainly did either. Steve would’ve called him out on it, except he couldn’t really begrudge JARVIS for being angry, not when Tony was still mostly ignoring him, too. 

 

Steve made a concentrated effort to slow down and turned towards a less crowded path when startled people started to jump out of his path.

 

*

 

Only a couple of days after the text, Steve was shocked to have the workshop door finally slide open to his knock. Tony’s gaze when he turned on his stool, was cool and the expression on his face the unreadable polite mask he used with acquaintances and business partners he didn’t like. Even though it was more or less what Steve had expected, it still hurt.

 

“There’s one thing I’d like to know,” Tony said without greeting him. “What was it that you hoped to achieve with all these head games? Doesn’t seem like something you’d do.”

 

His tone was carefully indifferent with an edge of curiosity to it. Fake, most of it, but Steve couldn’t begrudge him a little fibbing at this point.

 

“Not… Not to manipulate you or- or whatever you seem to be thinking of,” he tried. Now that Tony was actually willing to listen, all Steve’s carefully prepared speeches felt wrong and nothing was coming to him, so he just blurted, “I just wanted… I wanted to… maybe. Date you.”

 

“What?” Tony’s voice had gone quiet, his tone confused, and he was staring at Steve as if he’d suddenly started speaking Skrull.

 

“You heard me,” slipped out of Steve’s mouth in the stubborn ‘fight me’ tone he sometimes lost control over.

 

Agitated, Steve was trying to find a way to make the idea of dating seem more rational than it actually was, but before he managed to come up with anything, Tony asked,  “And what exactly do you mean by that?” His eyes were slitted in distrust, his head tilted and over the quick staccato of his heart beat, Steve noticed his hands had curled into fists and loosened them.

 

Steve shrugged and shifted on his feet, wishing to have a barrier, such as a dinner table, or something else like that between them. He tried to relax his tense muscles but settled on putting his hands in his pockets. “What do people usually mean when they talk about dating? I was thinking of taking you out to dinner and a show, maybe?” He’d also love to bring Tony flowers and hold his hand, but that was probably never happening no matter what.

 

Tony shook his head as if trying to dislodge a difficult idea from his skull. “You? You  wanted to  _ date _ me?”

 

Steve swallowed thickly. “Yes.”

 

Tony took a minute to just watch Steve. His brow was creased and face subtly troubled and Steve wanted to just tell him to get on with it and either tell Steve to fuck off or-

 

Whatever.

 

Tony leaned back against his work bench and when he spoke, there was still something baffled and strangely sad around his eyes. It made Steve want to punch something.

 

“Steve,” Tony started hesitantly. “Nowadays you don’t have to date someone in order to have sex or... kink with them.”

 

Steve clenched his teeth. “Come on, Tony,” he bit out mulishly. “You know that I don’t think like that.”

 

“Then why…?”

 

Behind his carefully cultivated mask, Tony sounded frustrated, so in turn, Steve had to take a moment to calm down and pull his thoughts together. He inhaled, and in his best Captain America is Telling the Truth voice, said, “Tony. You’re a good man. You’re my best friend-”

 

Tony opened his mouth, but Steve didn’t let him interfere.

 

“No, listen! We fit, Tony. Admit it. We get along in every sphere of our lives: work, battlefield, and now we also know that the things we like behind closed doors also complement each other.” Steve could see Tony racking his brains for a counter argument so that he could reject the whole concept of them and in desperation, in his most persuasive tone, Steve added, “You can’t possibly be denying that we are attracted to each other sexually, Tony. We could be  _ good _ together and you know it. Please, give it a chance.”

 

Tony closed his mouth and looked away. With a giddy thrill of triumph Steve realized that Tony wasn’t going to deny his attraction to Steve. He  _ hadn’t _ been imagining it: Tony  _ was _ sexually attracted to him - Steve locked his knees to not fall down in his dizzying relief and took a deep steadying breath.

 

“Good,” Steve said, deciding to strike while the iron was hot. “Just one date, Tony. What do you say?”

 

Tony looked away and sighed. “I don’t know, Steve. We fit, fine. I get it. But it doesn’t automatically translate into dating does it?”

 

Inwardly, Steve took a deep breath. This was it. Tony was swaying, he was almost there- Now all Steve had to do was give a convincing final push. “Not always,” he agreed.

 

What he actually wanted to do was to yell at Tony to just quit over-thinking it, but he knew that if he wanted to convince Tony he needed logical arguments, instead.

 

“But in case of you and I,” Steve explained, firmly, “it’s more than that. We fit sexually, yes, but even if that wasn’t the case, we still work well together in all the other areas too. I’m not even talking about how we fight or strategize. I’m talking about how we also spend a lot of our free time together and help each other relax. How I bring you food to the workshop if you’ve forgotten yourself here for days, and how you know exactly how to take me out of my head when I get lost. I’m talking about how we can make each other feel better after a nightmare or a panic attack. I think there’s more potential in our relationship than we realized, Tony, and I want to give it a chance.”

 

Steve would’ve liked to also bring up the night Tony was so deeply subspaced in the kitchen that he’d let Steve take care of him and how it had made him feel. But even though he hadn’t known what was going on at that time, it was probably just one more thing Steve should apologize for, first. 

 

“What if it doesn’t work out?” Tony said in a measured voice that made Steve think he was worried.

 

It was good; it meant, Tony was actually considering it.

 

“Then we go back to being friends,” Steve said. He knew that for him, it would probably be much more difficult than for Tony but  if he had to, he would still do it.

 

Tony’s lips curled into a sad smile. “What if we can’t?”

 

“We can, Tony. Of course, we can. Neither of us is a quitter. We are friends, we’re always going to be friends, no matter what.” This was what Steve believed without a doubt. Tony would never give up on Steve either. 

 

“So your conclusion is that despite everything we should spend even more time together? Romantically?” Tony’s expression was a mix of challenge and scepticism. “Isn’t it an obvious friends with benefits situation?”

 

“You really think so?” Steve was frantically trying to find a logical reason for why it wouldn’t work. “But we go out regularly together, anyway. It already feels like dating to me. Doesn’t it to you? Besides,” he went on quickly because maybe he didn’t want an answer to that question, after all. “I’d prefer for us to be exclusive and ‘friends with benefits’ seems to kind of counteract the notion.” He wasn’t sure if this level of honesty would help or hurt his case, but at this point he needed to be very clear about what he wanted, anyway.

 

When he looked back at Tony, it seemed that the other man was shocked into silence and for a minute there Steve was sure that he’d just blown it completely, but then Tony sighed and nodded.

 

“You’re making it extremely hard to say no to you, Rogers,” he said, but he didn’t look any happier for the admission.

 

Steve almost stopped breathing. “Is that a yes then?”

 

Tony grimaced. “I don’t know. Mainly, my problem with this is falling in love.”

 

Steve tried taking calming breaths through his nose.  _ Do you think you could learn to love me? _ he wanted to ask but shook his head instead. “We don’t have to think about that now.”

 

“How can you even say that?” Tony objected agitatedly. “So maybe you’re fine with this arrangement now, good for you. But you’re in your twenties still - what if you fall in love with somebody else while I grow ridiculously comfortable with dating you? Where would that leave me?”

 

Steve’s mouth went dry at the image Tony had painted him.  _ Please, do grow comfortable with me. Grow old with me. _ He couldn't even have imagined that the comfortable companionship might be something that Tony could settle for.

 

“I promise not to run off chasing after something better,” Steve promised. “I don’t think there is anything better for me, Tony,” he added.

 

For a moment they stared at each other, but then a flash of terrible agony stole across Tony’s face and he wrenched himself out of his stool to stomp over to the sofa. He flopped onto it and hid his face in his hands.

 

“Damn it, Steve. For a moment there you almost made me believe it was actually possible,” he muttered.

 

Blood rushing in his ears, Steve took a few hesitant steps towards the sofa. “What if we fall for each other?” he offered tentatively.

 

Seemingly taken aback, Tony lowered his hand. “You think that’s likely?”

 

Steve needed a moment to absorb the blow. He breathed. “Why not?” he continued stubbornly, ignoring that Tony thought himself falling for Steve was unlikely.

 

“Steve,” Tony said, softly. “You can’t make yourself fall in love with someone just because you want to.” He leaned back on the sofa and gestured for Steve to join him. “Besides, if you were ever to fall in love with me, don’t you think it’d have already happened?”

 

_ You got me there, _ Steve wanted to mutter. He sat.

 

Steve was out of arguments. Helplessly, not looking at Tony, he shrugged. “Nor can I make myself stop loving someone I have fallen for,” he murmured.

 

The admission was painful, but not something he could’ve held back any longer either. He lifted his eyes up to Tony’s and with a pang, saw that Tony’s were shocked and for a moment somehow wounded, but it was gone the next second and Steve couldn’t even be sure whether it had actually been there or not.

 

Had Tony finally guessed?

 

Steve closed his eyes and took a deep breath to compose himself.

 

“I see,” he heard Tony say. “Well, I’d prefer not to talk about that.”

 

Tony sounded calm and firm as if he’d finally reached a decision. Steve felt going numb all over, waiting for the verdict. Tony spoke.

 

“I don’t know if us dating is such a good idea, but if you are game, I would cash in that bondage session you owe me.”

 

Startled, Steve thought he’d misheard at first. “What?”

 

Tony turned around with a big grin. “You heard me.” The fake part of his grin dropped off and a softer, more honest version of it graced Tony’s lips. “I gotta be honest, Steve. Dating sounds awfully serious and rather sudden for me. But maybe we could try a game or two and see where that gets us?”

 

Steve’s whole body sagged and he slid down the backrest of the sofa almost into a lying position, closed his eyes and tried not to be too obvious about his relief. 

 

“This weekend then?” he offered,  a thrill of excitement starting to run down his spine. That had been his objective from the start - to get Tony to agree to a date or a scene, whichever came first, and then see if he could persuade Tony to give in about the other. “Saturday at ten?”

 

*

 

Tony’s heart was racing. It was the second time he was knocking on Steve’s door ready to be tied up. This time though, he wouldn’t need to hide his arousal or any of his reactions. It could even lead to-

 

But no. The idea that Steve and he could actually date was absolutely crazy. Tony told himself that Steve would never have offered anything like that if he had any actual idea of what he was talking about.

 

On the other hand, even though Tony didn’t have to hide his enjoyment, he definitely had to guard his heart. Steeling himself to cast aside any emotional reactions, he focused on the physical and knocked. 

 

“Tony,” Steve greeted him warmly when he opened the door. “Come on in.”

 

Stepping back to let Tony in, he looked down, as if trying to hide the giddy quality to his smile, and Tony’s own happy grin broke free.

 

“Good morning, darling,” Tony said, and to cover up his embarrassment, babbled, “You don’t mind endearments, do you? That’s just how I get in anticipation of pleasure.”

 

Steve’s smile widened. “Not at all.”

 

Having entered, Tony saw that the low table usually situated in the middle of the room was moved to the side to create a clear space on the soft beige carpet. Immediately, though, his attention was diverted by the four bundles of rope coiled neatly on the sofa: two of them a natural hemp, one was died red and one black.

 

Just looking at the set-up was making Tony’s dick twitch. They hadn’t actually talked about adding any other play elements to their rope session, but since their talk on Tuesday Tony had only wanked once on Wednesday morning and was now vaguely regretting it. At that time, he’d felt that if he gave in after that, he wouldn’t be able to stop masturbating for the whole week, so he just stopped. The idea that Steve would’ve liked it if he knew, gave him the edge to enjoy the self-denial, while also giving him the strength he needed to stave it off. Not the courage to admit it, though.

 

He noticed Steve staring at him and grinned cheekily. “How do you want me?”

 

There was a ripple of excitement with a twinge of awe on Steve’s face, as he simply blurted, “Naked.”

 

Feeling almost drunk with power, Tony stepped further into the room and started undressing. He didn’t try to show off - it wasn’t necessary. All he had to do was to look Steve in the eye, follow orders and watch Steve swallow and squirm as if trying to conceal how aroused he actually was. Tony wanted to laugh, wanted to touch himself and Steve, and wanted to feel Steve’s skin on his. By the time he was naked, his cock stood up with a bead of precum on its tip.

 

For a moment, Steve’s eyes zeroed in on Tony’s cock, but then his gaze flew to his eyes and held there.

 

“Come here.” Steve’s voice was hoarse. He indicated the middle of the carpet. “Face the door.”

 

His limbs suddenly heavy and his head light, Tony wanted to just go to Steve, drop to his knees and worship him, but instead, he did as he was told. Standing with his back to Steve was nerve-wracking, but it also got his dick dripping. Damn it, he should’ve masturbated right before he came. When Steve saw how much precum there was, he would know. Embarrassed, Tony thought about wiping it quickly off with this hand, but that would just draw attention to it. Tony concentrated on not blushing but still felt his ears growing hot. Thank god, his blushes were not as noticeable as Steve’s.

 

But why wasn’t Steve doing anything? Tony fidgeted and strained to listen, but it seemed as if Steve wasn’t even breathing. Tony wasn’t sure if it was a deliberate ploy to unnerve him or if Steve himself needed a minute, but it was definitely having an effect.

 

Waiting. He knew that some doms did that. Made their subs wait. Okay, fine. He could wait. He decided to count down from a hundred. A hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven, ninety-six, fuck-it, ninety-four, ninety-two, ninety, eighty-eight, eighty-

 

“Steve?”

 

“Yes?”

 

The answer came right behind Tony’s left ear and he startled.

 

“Are we… What’s happening?”

 

There was a pause.

 

“I’m thinking.” There was amusement in Steve’s slowly uttered words and momentarily, it put Tony’s mind at rest. “About how beautiful you are.”

 

Steve’s voice was lower than usual and every syllable of the quiet confidence in it hit Tony’s spine in shivers that travelled down into his groin.

 

“Put your hands behind your back, sweetheart.”

 

Tony’s limbs obeyed of their own volition. The moment Steve’s fingers touched the skin of his wrists, Tony’s breath hitched and his heart rate picked up, but Steve’s movements stayed precise and efficient, almost clinical, and Tony desperately yearned for more. He wanted to ask to be touched, beg for a tiny simple caress, maybe even just a shoulder squeeze of approval, but his mouth was dry and he couldn’t make himself say anything.

 

Very soon, his wrists were secured by what felt like a double clinch knot and Steve moved on to pull two lengths of ropes over his torso: two above his pectorals and two below. Securing the knots, Steve put his hands on Tony’s upper arms, slid them down in a tender caress and said, “Feels so good. Thank you for letting me do this, Tony.”

 

The gentle touch of Steve’s hands on Tony’s skin made him tremble in immeasurable pleasure, but the words hit him like a physical blow and he swayed back a bit. Steve caught him into an embrace and held him back-to-front. Moaning, Tony leaned into Steve and closed his eyes.

 

“You’re mine now.” Steve’s voice sounded like dark chocolate.

 

“Always.” The word was almost ripped out of Tony’s mouth like an oath and Steve trembled against his back.

 

“Yeah?” he breathed.

 

“Yeah,” Tony whispered back.

 

A little bit later Steve let him go, caressed his arms up and down, petting his neck and sides. Tony shivered and concentrated on not making a sound.

 

“Colour?”

 

Strangely, the question startled Tony. It wasn’t that he hadn’t expected Steve to check in, it was that with this question the reality of what was happening had finally started to sink in. Steve had tied him up. Steve had control. Tony was his sub, at least for a little while. Maybe they would even go on a date later.

 

“Green,” he responded.

 

“Good.” Steve put his face in the crook of Tony's neck and inhaled. “Thank you.”

 

Distantly, a part of Tony worried about how long Steve would want this. Him. How long before he was ready to move on? Until he found a new partner? How long did he have until Steve found the right partner? Tony would do anything to be the right partner for Steve.

 

Tony breathed in tandem with Steve and, without noticing, started to float.

 

Then the world tilted and Tony realized that his head was in the crook of Steve’s neck, one strong arm was around his shoulders and the other under his knees: Steve was carrying him somewhere. The walls and the ceiling moved blurrily past and strangely, Tony felt a little bereft when Steve finally let go of him.

 

“Are you alright? You started falling.” Steve’s voice was soft, but there was something unidentifiable in it. It was nice; Steve was stroking Tony's hair and the bed under him was soft and warm. “Tony, are you okay? Should I untie you?” Steve’s voice almost intruded in its insistence.

 

He should probably answer. Tony blinked.

 

“Wonderful,” Tony slurred when he realized that Steve had started to roll Tony to the side to untie him.

 

“What?”

 

“Feel wonderful,” he repeated.

 

“Tony, can you look at me please?”

 

Tony recognized an anxious note in Steve’s voice, so he blinked his eyes open and saw Steve’s worried face really close to his. Tony made an attempt to smile. He wasn’t sure how successful he was, but Steve visibly relaxed.

 

“Green, Steve,” Tony added just in case.

 

“Not dizzy?”

 

Tony thought a moment to analyze his physical reactions. He felt light-headed, but pleasantly like one did in subspace. He was comfortable, his dick was hard, he noticed now, but it wasn’t pressing and all in all, he felt really, really good.

 

“No.” Tony thought if there was more he was supposed to say. “Green.”

 

Steve smiled. “Alright.” His eyes raked over Tony’s body. “Do you think it would be alright if I tied your legs?”

 

Tony frowned. Wriggled his toes, moved his left leg. Yeah, they were still free. Funny. “Sure,” he agreed.

 

As Steve secured his ankles and knees together, the last of Tony’s worries floated away.

 

*

 

For the moment, Steve remained cautiously optimistic. He stood up to pace, the remote he took to fingering like a talisman still clutched in his hand. After all, even though the last night’s rope session seemed to have gone really well, it still didn’t follow that Tony would ever want to date Steve. Or even repeat the session.

 

In the end, they’d spent five hours together, some of which Steve chose to make sure that Tony ate and then he just held his sub (that thought would never fail to thrill him) and watched him drift off in front of the TV. God, he hoped it wasn’t the last time he got to do that! It turned out that aftercare felt at least as good as the session itself.

 

The first time they’d discussed it, Tony had tried to insist that he didn’t require any special aftercare, which made Steve want to pummel someone. All of Tony’s previous play partners probably. “Your choice, Tony, is between a session with aftercare or no session at all,” he’d said. Steve had no idea what expression he had on his face exactly, but when Tony saw it, he capitulated rather quickly.

 

He stared at the remote that used to represent such joy and then devastation and had now again somehow become a symbol of his unrealized, and most likely unrealistic, hopes and dreams. He wondered if Tony still had the plug. What if he was still using it sometimes? What if Steve turned it on now? Would it work? Would the plug start buzzing away somewhere in Tony’s drawer? Or what if it was actually-

 

No. That was a silly notion. Most likely, Tony had gotten rid of it.

 

Waiting was nerve-wracking. Steve put the remote on the table and grabbed his phone - still no answer. It had been almost 20 minutes now. Damn, Steve should have just asked Tony directly.

 

His own unanswered message of, ‘Dinner, Thursday at 7?’ was mocking him.

 

*

 

On Wednesday, just as he did every day, Steve put on his sweats and went jogging. It didn’t take him long to reach Central Park, where he started off by leaping over a park bench and running across a wide rock outcropping, startling into the air a bunch of pigeons apparently sitting just behind it. Feeling lighter, he took off at a good pace toward an actual jogging path.

 

Steve felt energised - Tony had agreed! They were going out. Steve would be careful: he wouldn’t be giving Tony flowers and he wouldn’t get to hold his hand, but maybe, if he played his cards right, he’d get to kiss Tony on the cheek and depending on how the evening went, maybe he would be able to tell Tony how to touch himself when he went to bed that night. Oh, how Steve would’ve liked to see Tony’s face when he delivered his instructions! But most probably that part of their relationship would have to wait a bit.

 

He’d just started imagining all the different ways he could let Tony play with himself when he remembered that he was in public.

 

During the past week, he’d had to double his workout time because the only play Tony and he had been engaged in was that lone bondage scene and he was horny all the time, these days. The idea of Tony submitting to his will, in whatever form it might take, was driving him to distraction. And the idea, that maybe Tony was jerking off all the time, too, was exhilarating. That maybe, as Han once explained to him, he was orgasming, but not finding it as satisfying because no one else was directing his actions.

 

Steve ran into a copse of trees to divert his attention, but he still couldn’t help but daydream of Tony thinking about Steve while masturbating, or at least thinking about a game with Steve. Maybe Tony was remembering their sessions online - and touching himself, even longing for Steve’s touch, perhaps...

 

Seeing an opportunity, Steve jumped on the monkey bars and conquered them in under half a minute. Trying to clear his head of all lustful thoughts, he leapt onto a climbing wall which was a bit more of a challenge. When up top, he braced into an awkward crouch and jumped onto the neighbouring wall. He almost fell, but managed to catch himself halfway down, climbed a meter or two and jumped back down to the ground. Adrenaline still roaring in his veins, he darted on through the green parts of the park, parkouring over low obstacles and thinking the situation over. 

 

The most wondrous fact so far was, that apparently, Tony was content to let Steve dictate the pace with which the game would proceed and realizing that he had that much control made Steve’s breathing even out and he slowed down. He turned back onto the running path at a more sedate pace.

 

Steve remembered how Tony had stayed at least half-hard throughout most of their rope session, and even when Steve escorted Tony to his bedroom and gave him his parting hug, he could feel his potential sub’s ( _ oh god _ ) half-hard cock against his hip.

 

Sexual touching, however, wasn’t anything they’d discussed beforehand and Steve wouldn’t rush it. Even if he was risking that Tony would get so fed up by Steve’s non-sexual approach that he wouldn’t even want to try anything else again, this time Steve would do the right thing.

 

Still, he thought he had cause to be cautiously optim- optimistic, his ass! Steve was desperate and he knew it. Tomorrow was very important because  tomorrow he could finally take Tony out. Steve had to make it good. His heart rate picked up at the thought again. Tomorrow-

 

He had to calm down. Tony had agreed; it was fine.  Steve wiped the sweat from his face and leapt over a ravine. Somebody on the nearby bridge whooped.

 

*

 

The next evening, just as Steve was finishing up in the bathroom, three decisive-sounding knocks startled him out of his musings, and hastily, he walked further out into the living room.

 

“Come in,” he called.

 

The door opened and Tony poked his head in. “Hi, Cap. You got a minute?” His expression was carefully neutral but in a shifty way that tended to mean that Tony was trying to be secretive about something.

 

Steve made conscious decision to not frown. “Of course,” he said. Was this the moment Tony would tell him that he’d reconsidered? That he didn’t want that date after all? “You want to sit down? Something to drink?”

 

He was stalling. No way would Tony agree to sit down if he was going to decline the date.

 

“No, no. Thank you.”

 

_ Shit. _

 

Steve took a steadying breath and watched Tony bounce on the balls of his feet and fidget with something in his pockets. “I just wanted to… clear something up.”

 

The uneasiness in Steve’s stomach transformed into a pit of slithering snakes. “Yeah?”

 

“Yeah…” Tony was looking anywhere but at Steve. “You see, I’ve got this… problem.”

 

Heavy disappointment turned the snakes leaden weight in his gut and unable to say anything, Steve just nodded.

 

“Yeah, I was thinking... Maybe we could try…” He hesitated, then licked his lips and continued. “Maybe we could try playing for a bit.” He cleared his throat. “Like we did before, but with less anonymity and with a more hands-on approach, you could say.”

 

Steve breathed. In and out. Slowly. He wasn’t sure what had happened for Tony to suddenly suggest it, but he would definitely take everything Tony ever offered him. The relief he felt at the date being still on and gaining an opportunity to…

 

His lips stretched, in what he feared would look stupidly goofy smile, so he tried to tone it down. “Are you saying, you’d give up your right to choose the time and form of your sexual gratification?” he asked slowly. With relish.

 

Tony’s eyelids fluttered and he swallowed. “I love it when you use big words.”

 

Steve smiled. “I don’t think I need big words to turn you on. I just need the one. “ Steve paused for dramatic effect. “No.”

 

Tony drew in a sharp breath and visibly shivered. “Fuck.”

 

Steve’s smile grew. “Language,” he said gently and added. “Were you thinking about starting after our date tonight or…?”

 

“If you want.”

 

Steve flashed Tony a slow smile and got a blindingly bright one in return. “And what about the duration?”

 

Tony fidgeted. “I’m not really… good at stopping.”

 

A shiver ran down Steve’s spine. “Do you want me to determine the length? Or are you proposing a game of unlimited duration?”

 

“I…” Tony seemed to be at loss for words and his embarrassed squirming suddenly reminded Steve of their last car ride together with Tony plugged and excited. Was he…? “The latter, I guess,” Tony finished. “I’ll safeword if I need to stop.”

 

As if pulled by a magnet, Steve stepped closer to Tony. “Are you…?” He had no idea how to ask if the other man was wearing a butt plug. “Why are you…?”

 

Biting his lips, Tony looked away. “I haven’t… touched myself. Much. Just once  after we agreed on the rope session and then the day before yesterday.”

 

_ Oh, god _ .

 

Steve tried breathing through his excitement. He was rock hard. His fingers itched to grab Tony’s hips, press him against the wall and-

 

_ I want you to suck me off. _

 

He shook his head to clear it and said, “Thank you for telling me.” He took a calming breath and went on, “and for… doing that. Even if it’s for your own enjoyment, thank you. It really means a lot. I…” Steve stopped as he realized that he might be starting to babble, looked Tony in the eye and said, “Well, I guess that’s it then.” In anticipation, he smiled slowly. “No touching for you then.” He gave himself a moment to take in Tony’s suddenly still form, in his jeans and a tee, the muscular arms with hands in his pockets and elegant neck, his jaw, cheekbones and his beautifully sparkling eyes. “But lots of touching for me. Right?” He didn’t wait for confirmation because Tony’s wide eyes and short breath were answer enough. “What about… me touching you?”

 

“Yes.” Tony cleared his throat and added, “Please.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Your thoughts? :)


	11. Slow acting poison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Here it finally is. Thank you for the patient waiting and gentle and sometimes yelling support and encouragement. Loran and athletiger outdid themselves again! (Also Grammarly.) So remember it was supposed to be the last chapter? Well... Oops?  
> But I did write the last chapter, it just happened that it was 10k with a natural and good place to split it into two chapters, so I did. But the next one is the last since I've already written it. I'll post the next as soon as I'm sure that it's the best version I can deliver.  
> Also, I'm turning it into a series, but not because there will be an actual continuation, but because I have an alternative scene I want to share. Remember the first Steve POV in the kitchen? It was initially written as Tony's, I thought some people might be interested? And I have some smut ideas with Mean!Steve (which Tony will enjoy, of course), but I won't promise you the smut soon. Just letting you know that I think I might write something. But for now, these 12 chapters are it. I hope you'll enjoy. :)

 

Staring at himself in the mirror, Tony just couldn’t believe it. Not only was he going out with Steve, he was also under orders to not touch himself and Steve seemed to be inclined to try out a long- longer? A relationship of some duration at least? A potential long-term. Maybe? Tony decided not to dwell on it for now: if he started, he’d turn maudling and he needed his A-game for the date. He knew that he should take it easy and try to concentrate on the game part of their relationship. That was safe. He had to stay level-headed, not overthinking or seeing depths that weren’t there, nothing too involved. They were playing and they were dating and it was supposed to be fun. When it inevitably ended, they’d remain friends and he would have his memories.

 

But he was an idiot, so instead of concentrating on the physical, his stupid heart latched onto the fact that Steve wanted to _ date _ him... to be  _ exclusive _ with him and that made him feel stupidly happy. He was clearly overreacting, so he tried to tone it down.

 

He took a jacket off the hanger and put it on; stepped back to the mirror and gave himself one more look: pants, jacket, shirt open at the neck, goatee trimmed, hair arranged. Sunglasses or no sunglasses? He felt like he might need some shades to hide behind. Or maybe he should forgo the jacket? No, he needed the jacket in case Steve wanted to play with him. Despite the dance belt, he might need something to hide his erection behind.

 

Tony couldn’t hold the insanely giddy smile off his face. He was so, so fucked. Unfortunately, not literally. His hands twitched with the need to touch his cock, but it wasn’t difficult to abstain. Steve didn’t want him to. Steve would tell him when and Tony was fine with that.

 

And maybe Steve would even touch Tony himself? Tony almost moaned at the thought.

 

*

 

Less than half an hour later they were in the car and a little bit after that in a restaurant. The place surprised Tony: Steve didn’t usually go for high-end establishments like this. He’d also expected some innuendo and touching, but so far, Steve had made friendly small-talk, opened doors for him, pulled out the chair for Tony and, after ordering, they even talked shop.

 

The patch of skin on his back where Steve’s hand touched to guide him towards their table had stopped tingling, but his cock hadn’t softened entirely even now. Tony was a tiny bit confused: it felt like a date, but also not. They were friends, they’d done restaurants together before, they’d even done hands on the small of each other’s backs before. It was all so, so familiar that suddenly Tony realized what Steve meant by saying that they were already dating anyway. 

 

How could he have been so oblivious?

 

Steve was looking at him expectantly.

 

“What?”

 

Steve smiled. “I asked you about the Expo. You are already planning the new one, aren’t you?”

 

“What? The giant self-wank event that Pepper is refusing to help me with? Of course, I am.” Maybe the dance belt and the jacket would not be necessary today, after all, Tony thought with a tiny bit of disappointment. “What Pep has yet to acknowledge is that even though it might’ve started as a frivolous undertaking, I’ve actually created a market for it now. I’ll get her on board, you’ll see.”

 

“I’ve no doubt.”

 

Tony told him about the interest groups and preliminary research into potential partners and Steve listened, smiled and gave feedback.

 

They were into their second courses when they got a call to assemble.

 

“Fuck.”

 

“Shit.”

 

They grinned to each other and were off.

 

*

 

“Tony,” Steve said over a private line. “Did you take it out?”

 

“What?” Tony was in the middle of pushing the huge oil tanker into movement.

 

“Did you take it out before you suited up?”

 

Tony frowned. “Did I take what out?”

 

“Th-the plug?”

 

“The what?” Then it dawned on him. “You mean,  _ The Plug _ ? No!”

 

“You didn’t-”

 

“No, I mean-”

 

“Why didn’t you- Are you wearing it  _ now _ ?”

 

_ I wish _ .

 

“No! I’m not wearing it now! Why would you think I was wearing it?” Tony stopped pushing the tanker and switched over to public comms. “The tanker’s where we wanted it,” he said. “Your turn, folks. I’m going inside to look at the engine.”

 

“You heard Iron Man. Let’s move,” Steve told the team and switched back over to private. “But you were wearing it before, right? When you came to my room before the date?”

 

Tony switched the powerful lights on his suit on to see in the dark engine room. “No. I wasn’t wearing it. I told you I haven’t done anything in a while.” Tony made a mental note of Steve not objecting Tony taking initiative. His stupid cock twitched at that, and Tony grumbled under his breath, too low for the comms to pick up, “Come on, Stark, engines aren’t that exciting.”

 

One by one their teammates reported being in positions and the main part of the rescue operation was in progress.

 

*

 

Several hours later when they’d finally returned from the debrief on the Helicarrier everybody was exhausted and dispersed quite quickly. Tony didn’t want to linger like a teen with a crush, but their date seemed like a dream that he wasn’t sure had actually happened or not. He’d taken the Quinjet to return like everybody else and was now regretting it. Steve was acting like nothing special at all had happened and with everyone but Clint already out of the hangar, Tony resigned himself to letting it go.

 

“Tony, wait up!”

 

Tony turned, only to see Steve jogging to catch up with him.

 

“Yeah, Cap?” he called out, with his heart in his throat.

 

“I’m Steve again now though, right?”

 

“Sure, Capsicle.” Tony grinned. “What’s up?”

 

For a moment, Steve seemed to falter, but recovered in a split second and asked, “But you still have the plug, right?”

 

As if he was continuing a conversation from a couple of minutes ago.

 

Tony blinked. “Yes.” His cock was suddenly trying to fill and straighten in its padded, but ultimately metal, confines.

 

Steve drew a quick breath. “Good.” He nodded. “Don’t lose it.”

 

All the air whooshed out of Tony’s lungs and, mutely, he nodded.

 

Steve pushed the elevator button and turned to look Tony in the eye. “You free Friday next week?”

 

Tony blinked. “Not… not the whole day.”

 

“I meant in the evening. For a date. We’ll need to finish one properly, right?”

 

The disappointment over not getting to play with the plug today or possibly in the near future warred with his elation over another date. “Sure.”

 

They stepped into the elevator.

 

“Same time?” Steve asked.

 

Tony nodded. “Seven.”

 

“Good.” Steve was staring at the number display over the doors. “I want you to play with yourself before bed tonight,” he said as if discussing the Avenger’s training plan. “Only for fifteen minutes though. Text me when you start playing, I’m going to have an orgasm while you edge.”

 

Tony felt weak and energized all at once. The elevator stopped and again, Steve put his hand on Tony’s back to guide him out. It was ridiculous; he didn't need any help.

 

Despite still wearing his armour, his skin tingled.

 

When they were on the workshop floor, Steve put his hand on Tony’s gauntlet. “Are you alright? Do you want to safeword?”

 

Tony swallowed and shook his head. “No.”

 

“Good. Thank you. Any questions then?”

 

Tony thought a moment. Opened his mouth, gaped, and closed it. “Are you… will you…” Apparently, face to face it was so much more difficult to ask your dom if he were going to let you come.

 

Steve smiled gently. “Will I what?”

 

Tony shook his head. “Nothing.”

 

Steve tilted his head, stared at him a moment and asked, “Are you sure?”

 

Embarrassed, Tony looked away. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

 

Steve waited a moment more and Tony wished he could just leave, but Steve’s hand was still on his forearm and even if he couldn’t feel it through all the hard layers, the idea of the touch still felt good. His cock couldn’t get into full hardness and that felt… Tony cleared his throat.

 

“What’s your colour?” Steve inquired shortly.

 

“Green.” When it came to what Steve wanted, Tony’s answer would probably always be ‘green’.

 

Steve stared at him for a moment more, then nodded thoughtfully. “Alright then. At around eleven as usual?”

 

“Yes,” Tony croaked and watched as Steve stepped back into the elevator and disappeared behind closed doors.

 

*

 

There was still three hours to go and Tony decided to tinker awhile in the workshop. At least there was a small chance that he would accomplish something more than fruitless daydreaming and fidgeting.

 

He was excited to play tonight and if that went well, the next gala the Avengers were required to attend wasn’t far off either. Would Steve want to play then too? Tony wasn’t sure which even he anticipated more, the intimate one tonight or the semi-public in a couple of days. The anticipation was a part of the pleasure, but on the other hand, he also felt a little pathetic, too.

 

After everything that had happened, after Steve’s deception and ill thought out mind games, it didn’t take long at all for Tony to forgive him. Being angry with Steve had just been so exhausting that the moment Steve offered him what seemed to be a dream come true, he couldn't fight it. But once he gave an inch, the rest of his walls came tumbling down like a house of cards. Steve was impossible to say no to, even though Tony knew fairly well that what was offered was not actually a dream come true, but rather a slow acting poison in disguise. For Steve, it was a phase, something that would blow over. At some point he'd find someone else, and where would that leave Tony?

 

Tony walked up to his workstation drawers and took the damn piece of rope out. How did it even migrate here from the bedroom? That's where it would leave him: staring at a discarded rope with a flower for a knot. The accidental symbol of his unrequited love. With a grimace, he shoved it back into the drawer.

 

The bottom line was - he wanted Steve to touch him, and if it didn’t happen tonight, it would probably happen soon. There was no way Steve could refuse real-life play - Tony was probably his first kink partner and Steve wanted to experience it. The sex would happen, but stupidly, above anything else, what Tony actually wanted was for Steve to kiss him. But kissing felt personal and intimate and Tony had a hard time imagining Steve wanting to kiss Tony.

 

He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth as if to dispel the need for any touch his lips might have.

 

*

 

Steve was sitting on the bed in his bedroom when he noticed that for the first time in a very long time his phone was showing the right time. He swallowed.

 

“JARVIS?”

 

“What can I help you with, Captain Rogers?” JARVIS asked in the friendly tone Steve hadn’t heard so long that suddenly he felt tears prickle behind his eyes.

 

For a moment, he couldn’t even answer. “Have you…” His throat felt scratchy. “Have you forgiven me then?”

 

There was a pause. “That remains to be seen, Captain. It largely depends on your intentions.”

 

Steve frowned. “My intentions?”

 

“Toward Sir. I realize that while technically, your intentions are not my business, Sir’s wellbeing is, so I would very much appreciate your reassurance that you do not intend to hurt him any further.”

 

Steve’s lips curved in a short crooked smile. “No, JARVIS. I definitely don’t intend to hurt him any more than I already have. You know that I never intended to hurt him in the first place. In fact, everything I’ve done has been out of…” Steve sighed. “Would you, please, look at me, JARVIS? It’s important.” He raised his head and looked at the corner where he knew a camera that only activated in case of emergencies, was hidden. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t. I know I’ve hurt him and I regret it more than I could possibly say. I just hope that someday he will let me apologize properly.”

 

There was a pause where he assumed the AI was analyzing his facial expression against all the other times Steve had said something important that JARVIS knew was sincerely meant.

 

“Thank you for telling me this, Captain Rogers.”

 

*

 

The text said simply:  **_I’m ready._ **

 

Steve’s breath caught. Desperately he wanted to just go to Tony’s room and kiss him, but that felt somehow… presumptuous. Sure, Tony had agreed to a date and even offered a game - the thought sent a surge of pleasure through his whole system, but maybe it was too soon? Would he think that Steve was trying to be  _ romantic _ ?

 

**_Good. Thank you for telling me_ ** , he sent back. He’d just finished typing, ‘Are you dressed?’ when he finally recognized the total idiocy of texting when they were a mere floor apart. Going to Tony’s floor wouldn’t be romantic necessarily, mostly it would just be practical, right? Would Tony dislike playing face to face? Unsure, he stood up and walked to the door, halted and then, decisively, proceeded through the door to the elevator.

 

His next text said:  **_Don’t touch yourself. I’m coming over._ **

 

If Tony didn’t want him to, he could just text back and say so. He waited a couple of minutes, but his heart was pounding so hard, he had to move. In measured steps, he set off towards the elevator.

 

What if it would be awkward? What if Tony safeworded? Anxiously, Steve waited for Tony’s text, but he reached his destination before any reply came. Steve had just raised his hand to knock when the door opened.

 

Tony wasn’t smiling, but his face was so expectant and eager that it took Steve’s breath away.

 

“Steve.” Tony stepped aside. “Thank you for coming.”

 

An immeasurable lightness filled Steve’s body.  _ Thank you for having me _ , he wanted to say.  _ Thank you for being glad to see me _ .  _ Thank you for not being angry. _ Instead, he just came in, and as if in shock, for a beat, had no idea what to do. Then he looked at Tony - wonderful, magnificent Tony, in his soft band T-shirt and comfortable, ratty jeans. Suddenly Steve felt as calmly confident as he’d never felt in any of his relationships before. Steadily, he walked over to the sofa and sat.

 

Closing the door, Tony turned to follow Steve’s movements with his eyes and now stood just inside the room, not moving, expectant. Steve smiled.

 

“Come here.” He watched as Tony walked up to him, and unsure of himself only for a flicker, dropped on his knees just in front to Steve.

 

“Please,” he said. “I’m yours.”

 

Steve’s breath stuttered at the gesture, the words, the utter devotion on Tony’s face, and for a moment, he believed it. But of course, Tony couldn’t have meant it like Steve wanted him to mean it. It was a game; something just for now. That Tony was enthusiastic about it, hardly surprised Steve.

 

He just hoped that one day, Tony’s enthusiasm would be… more.

 

His heart aching with longing, Steve smiled. “Thank you, Tony. I appreciate it.” With one hand he cupped Tony’s face and slid his thumb over the cheekbone. “You’re so gorgeous, doll. So devastatingly handsome and so eager. I like that a lot, my beautiful.” The words were coming out by themselves; Steve didn’t seem to have a filter any more. Should he pull back on the endearments? He closed his eyes, put his forehead to Tony’s and asked quietly, “What do you want to do tonight?”

 

For a short while, Tony was silent. Over the blood rushing in his ears, the only thing Steve heard was their heartbeats and breathing.

 

“I want you to touch me,” Tony said then, quietly. “Make me come, please.”

 

Steve opened his eyes and leaned back to look at Tony.

 

“That’s two things, sweetheart,” Steve said, spurred on by a dark inner need and instinct. “You can only get one tonight, I think. Do you want to choose for yourself or do you want me to do it?”

 

Tony inhaled and shivered, his hands at his sides fisting as if needing to grab something, “I would like to come tonight, please.”

 

Feeling a curious feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction, Steve leaned back to look Tony in the eyes and tutted in mock disapproval. “That’s not what I asked, doll, was it?” Steve combed through Tony’s hair and tugged at them a little. “I asked whether you wanted to decide which it would be or if I should do it for you. But since you were so arrogantly presumptuous, I think I’ll just make the decision myself.”

 

Tony groaned and almost swayed on his knees as if he was under an assault of a strong wind. “Steve,” he said feverishly. His hands flexed at his sides again. “I’m sorry, okay? Really, really sorry,” he babbled. “My bad. Will you, please, just allow me to come tonight?”

 

Steve relished the begging, but there was still something missing; there was the edge to Tony’s tone that was more seduction than desperation and Steve was determined to change that.

 

“Good, Tony. That’s good. I like you begging. But unfortunately, I’m not feeling it yet.” He leaned in to nuzzle at Tony’s hair and heard an almost whimper that he was not entirely sure was performance or not. “I don’t think we’re going to get there tonight. What’s it been, a couple of days?”

 

“Almost a week,” Tony replied plaintively and - finally - there was something real in his tone.

 

Steve smiled. “Surely we can do at least a week, can’t we?”

 

“No, please, Steve.” Tony leaned into Steve and was clearly straining not to touch him. “Please.”

 

Steve trailed his hands along Tony’s arms. “Put your hands behind your back, please,” he said, partly to help Tony to keep from doing something he would regret and partly to win back some of his equilibrium.

 

Just as Steve had hoped, Tony did as he was told and after a moment, heaved a sigh in what sounded like a relief. “Thank you,” he said.

 

“You’re welcome, doll.” Steve put his palm on the back of Tony’s neck and rubbed it slowly. “I think I like you needy and obedient like this.  It’s just too much fun for me to just let you come tonight.” He put his other hand on Tony’s cheek, caressed the side of his head, his neck and hair, and then, for a split second, both of his hands stilled. “But I haven’t decided for sure, yet.” His thumb rolled over Tony’s lower lip and to his astonishment, Tony closed his eyes, moaned and tried to kiss Steve’s fingers.

 

_ Oh, god. _

 

He wasn’t going to survive this. How was he meant to resist Tony? He’d had a plan, dammit!

 

“I think I would like to undress you now,” Steve said, waited for a beat, but when there was no objection, he pulled Tony’s shirt out of his jeans and over the head. Without being told, Tony put his hands back behind himself, and eyes closed leaned into Steve’s touch. “Do you think I should assign you a number of orgasms you should give me before you are allowed to come, hm?”

 

Tony groaned, but curiously, didn’t object.

 

Maybe if he kept Tony in constant need, he’d be always thinking of Steve… Or maybe he’d just want to fuck anything that moved, Steve thought sardonically.  But Tony was not a cheater, so maybe it would be enough if he always came to Steve for that. Maybe he would be happy and content with Steve for years to come. Maybe he wouldn’t need anything else.

 

Maybe he’d fall for Steve.

 

His hands roaming over Tony’s shoulders, pecs and flat stomach, Steve marvelled how need and enjoyment warred on Tony’s face. Steve leaned in and licked Tony’s left nipple. Tony moaned. Gently, he sucked it into his mouth and Tony whimpered. Alternating between the two nipples Steve kept his hands caressing Tony’s skin: up along his sides and over the hard, muscular back, then back to front skimming over the belt buckle. Tony bucked forward and grunted.

 

“Please,” he breathed. “Please, Steve.”  He tried to press his crotch into Steve’s body but Steve tutted and pushed him a bit farther away.

 

Tony whimpered and Steve wanted to kiss him.

 

He probably wouldn't object right now, Steve thought, but wouldn’t it be taking advantage? Steve wasn’t sure if it might be too soon: kissing felt very intimate to him.

 

“Tony?” he asked, but the word ‘anything’ was all over Tony’s face, so Steve wasn’t really sure how to ask if kissing would be okay.

 

“Yes?” Tony’s eyes opened, dark and hazy with desire.

 

Steve’s gaze dropped to Tony’s lips. Maybe it was too romantic? Or maybe he was overstating the importance of it? Some people kissed indiscriminately nowadays. Was Tony one of them? In doubt, Steve bit his lip. To divert Tony’s attention from how hungrily he’d been staring at Tony’s lips, he slid his right hand down over his belt buckle and down the jean-covered crotch.

 

Tony’s breath hitched. “Please,” he moaned when Steve almost pulled his hand away.

 

“You sure that’s what you want?” Steve asked, quietly.

 

“Yes, Steve. Yes, I’m sure.”

 

Tony’s words were not as slurred or languid as Steve would’ve expected, so he thought he’d dare ask him a real question.

 

“Only if you let me kiss you. You think you can deal with that?”

 

His eyes still bright with pleasure, Tony’s lip crooked up in an amused smile. “Was that supposed to be a hard bargain?” he inquired in a low voice. “Sounds like a win-win to me.”

 

At these words, Steve surged forward and cupping Tony’s head firmly, he pressed their mouths together. Sucking Tony’s lower lip in, Steve slipped his tongue inside. He was not entirely sure if there was any finesse in his technique, but almost immediately, Tony started trembling and moaning. It was a mess at first, they battled for what went where and who was supposed to lead, but still holding Tony’s head firmly, Steve pulled away a little and revelling at the strain as Tony was trying to capture his lips again, pushed in, forcing Tony to just take it. A few seconds later Tony relaxed into it and they both moaned.

 

After a bit, Steve slowed down and, pulling away only as far as an inch from the other man’s lips, he said hoarsely, “So sweet, darling. Could do this forever.”

 

Still panting and eyes closed, Tony grunted a laugh. “An upgrade from just all day, huh?”

 

Steve chuckled, darkly. “Seems like it’s gonna be just touching for tonight then.”

 

“Shit.” Tony opened his eyes and looked at Steve open adoration.

 

At seeing Tony’s reaction, a calm happiness started glowing in his chest. Might this be what some people called a domspace? Steve took a deep, contented breath.

 

“Steve? Please reconsider? It’s been days,” Tony pleaded.

 

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, it has been, hasn’t it? But I like you going for days without, Tony, you know that. That’s what I get off on.” He grinned at the shiver that seemed to wreck Tony’s frame.

 

“Can I touch you, at least? Please?” Tony begged.

 

“Not right now, sweetheart. You just keep your hands where they are for now.” Steve didn’t think anyone else’s submission would ever compare to what he felt when Tony did it. “Now let’s get you out of these pants.”

 

Unsurprisingly, Tony was hard and leaking.

 

“Is this for me?” Steve asked softly and pulled Tony’s pants down to his knees. A low glow of happiness warmed Steve’s gut at the sight. “I like you like this, half undressed, on your knees and wanting.” He ran his fingers through Tony’s silky hair again and kissed him. Tony moaned. “Damn, I should keep you like this always,” Steve said after pulling away. Gently, he trailed Tony’s lips with his fingers, and his eyes closed, Tony chased after them.

 

“Now,” Steve said, still smiling slightly. “I remember I promised you some thorough touching tonight, didn’t I?” He caressed Tony’s well-defined chest with his fingertips. Then slowly, his hand trailed towards Tony’s erect cock, but before touching it, he changed course and slid right past, down the thigh and lightly, cupped the inside of it.

 

Tony, bucked his hips. “Please,” he moaned, rather desperately now. It didn’t sound as if he thought he would get what he was asking for and that made Steve feel wonderful.

 

“I promised you touching and I’m touching you,” he said. “I don’t think you’ve got any cause to complain.” Goosebumps rose on Tony’s skin as Steve kept teasing him in the same manner: petting him so close to where Tony wanted, but not ever really  _ there. _ For Steve, it was almost a religious experience. 

 

“I’m not complaining.” Even through gritted teeth, Tony sounded pleading.

 

Without answering, Steve moved his hand to Tony’s other thigh and trailed his fingers up as close to his balls as he could without actually touching them.

 

“Fuck,” he cursed, but then continued in a more quiet voice, “Just… please. If it’s just... the touch… tonight... at least… touch my cock? Please?”

 

“But you like getting edged and then left wanting, don’t you,” Steve said, not really making it into a question.

 

“May...be…” Tony was panting regularly now. “But… not tonight? Please?”

 

Steve hummed thoughtfully. “You sound so wonderful when you beg, Tony. So sweet, so gentle.”

 

Tony blushed and clearly embarrassed, said, “Bastard.”

 

“Language.” Steve paused as he thought that over and feeling delighted, went on,  “That’ll cost you.” He tweaked Tony’s nipple which got him something between a cry of dismay and a needy moan. Steve grinned and happily, he opened his own fly. Tony’s gaze trained onto Steve’s cock as if drawn by a magnet.

 

How was it possible that Tony was still keeping his hands where ordered? It was almost as if he’d forgotten that he wasn’t actually tied up.

 

To sit more comfortably, Steve slid closer to the edge of his seat, but still leaving some space between their bodies, he praised, “So good for me.” Easing himself out of his pants and starting to jerk off slowly, Tony’s pleading to touch him, let him touch Steve, suck him off or at least something, allow him something, was spurring him on and soon he was panting and moaning himself. Steve was hard, was leaking and so, so turned on by the way Tony was trying to peer down between them, his whole body tense and shivering, that it didn’t take him long at all to teeter on the edge. With a needy noise, he stopped his hand, pulled Tony’s head, closer and kissed him. 

 

Tony groaned gratefully and despite having lost all skin-to-skin contact elsewhere, he kept making delicious noises, so once Steve started touching himself again, it was only a minute when Steve spilled all over Tony’s chest. Vaguely, he sensed Tony’s body convulsing near him as if he too, had come, but when he opened his eyes to check, Tony was still hard and leaking, just incredibly turned on.

 

“Steve, Steve,” he was chanting now, “shit, Steve. Please, I can’t. Touch me. Please.”

 

This time, there was no sense of performance or playfulness in Tony’s voice; finally, the begging sounded genuinely desperate and the feeling of satisfaction Steve got from that alone was far greater than what he ever experienced while orgasming.

 

“Sh, Tony. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” He got down on his knees to embrace Tony fully and holding his trembling body, reached down between them. Tony cried out when Steve’s fingers circled his cock and gripping his shaft firmly, Steve started slowly sliding his fist up and down. Eyes screwed shut tight Tony whimpered, bucked and instinctively, Steve knew that he wouldn’t be able to hold back from coming, so Steve said gently, “That’s right, you’re alright, Tony. I’ve got you, baby. Come whenever you want, sweetheart.”

 

*

 

Tony opened his eyes slowly. It was light out and he felt rested like he hadn’t in a long time. All his muscles were aching in the best way and Tony stretched, a smile on his face. The last thing he remembered as he’d drifted off last night were strong arms around him, Steve’s chest against his back and his breath at Tony’s hair. A second later, his stomach dropped and his smile dimmed. With the certainty of a gaping wound, he knew that he was alone now. Tony squeezed his eyes shut again. He tried to recall the warm feeling of Steve’s embrace, of being held safe, almost like being loved by him; it only accentuated the sense of loneliness and reminded him that despite the great sex, Steve had chosen to leave.

 

Disgusted by his own neediness, he decided not to ask JARVIS how long Steve had stayed. Tony flung the blanket off and sat up. What had he expected? Of course, Steve would have preferred his own bed. They were dating, not… Tony rubbed the last spell off his face and headed to the bathroom.

 

Why wouldn’t Steve have stayed? Wasn’t that what considerate lovers did? Tony had thought the sex had been good, spectacular even, but apparently, not to Steve. Tony didn’t look at himself in the mirror.

 

He would have to do better next time. Ask what Steve wanted, not just take and take and… Shit. How had Tony already fucked up?

 

He put his fists on the counter and, his eyes closed, took a couple of calming breaths. It was okay, Steve wouldn’t leave him over one mediocre session. After all, it had been Steve’s first domination session too; they’d talk and the next time - at the gala, perhaps? - Tony would do better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... Let me know how I did?  
> (Also, subscribe if you want the alternative scene.)  
> Love <3


	12. Some strategist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s been long coming and you’ve all been so patient. Thank you! The biggest thank yous go to Loran_Arameri and athletiger who betaed the shit out of this SEVERAL TIMES!  
> And then I rewrote it again, but it was because I wanted it to be the best I could deliver, not because I’m crazy. Honest! And it’s now the longest chapter of the story, so I just hope you’ll enjoy reading it at least half as much as I did writing. :)

Steve hated galas, but sometimes his attendance was necessary. In this case, it was mandatory to all Avengers and Steve really, really wished he could just fake a sudden illness. Or order Tony to wear the plug - that would help too. But as tempted as he was, with all their teammates in attendance, such a game would be a bad idea. Especially since he was more or less sure that even though they had agreed to exclusive dating, they were not telling their friends yet. After all, their first date had been cut short and the second was still five days away.

 

At least last night had gone well. Tony had been mesmerizing in his submission and, even now Steve was still somewhat spellbound by the memories of what they’d done together. Holding Tony while he drifted off to sleep had been the best, but also the most difficult part of it because he hadn’t wanted to let go. He needed to make sure that Tony would be alright after the game, so in a hushed voice he’d consulted with JARVIS who assured Steve that Tony rarely displayed any signs of subdrop after a successful session. 

 

Still, seeing it with his own two eyes would’ve been good. So being cautious, Steve stayed almost until dawn. He didn’t fall asleep himself. Instead, he stroked Tony’s hair, listened to his heartbeat and imagined what it would be like to hold him like this every night.

 

Just before it got light, he’d slipped out of under the blanket and crept towards the door. Of course, he’d asked JARVIS to notify him should Tony display any signs of distress during sleep or upon waking, but it was almost ten when he finally realised that he’d never asked JARVIS to tell him when Tony actually got up. So in the end, even his usual check-in text came late, since it turned out that this morning, Tony had been up a couple of hours earlier. JARVIS assured him, though, that as far as he could observe, Tony had been in good spirits and appeared rested.

 

Despite all that, not being able to be there when Tony woke up, had been a bitter pill to swallow. He should’ve asked Tony if staying the night might be agreeable in advance. On the other hand, what would he have done if Tony had declined? What if Tony had made a careless joke and shrugged off Steve’s concern? No, Steve better wait out a couple of more games before he asked.

 

Steve was glad that Tony had felt good, of course he was, but an excuse, however flimsy, for checking in personally would have been nice, too. What a rotten thing to wish for - for his sub to feel worse so that  _ he _ could feel better? Sometimes Steve hated himself.

 

Steve rubbed his forehead and stood up. Perhaps it was time to don the suit Natasha assured him would be appropriate to wear at tonight’s gala.

 

He didn’t want to. Since the moment he’d forced himself to get out of Tony’s bed and leave him there, unattended, carelessly abandoned like a one-night-stand, there had been an anxious feeling slowly expanding in his chest. The check-in text he’d always sent the morning after a game had never been a good enough option and it was even less acceptable now.

 

The image in the mirror seemed to be mocking him: as neat and put-together as he looked, Steve felt like an imposter. Steve Rogers had never fit in with the rich and famous crowd and no matter how fancy the tailoring, he still felt like he was in a cheap costume.

 

And even though he knew that it was all in his head, that nowadays most people found him more attractive than not, he still felt as if tonight he would be judged against the harshest possible metric: him versus all the beautiful people Tony interacted with at the gala. The judge? Steven Grant Rogers. Because Tony wouldn’t. Still, that was how he was going to spend tonight: fretting that Tony would find someone he’d want to sleep with. Sure, Tony wouldn’t stray, but what if he’d  _ want _ to?

 

Steve pulled his tie out of the drawer wishing Tony would wear The Tie. Yes, there were some sad memories attached to it, but it would also mark him as Steve’s. It would be their secret sign, and if not a sign of devotion, then at least a sign of commitment. And maybe a little bit like a token of affection even? 

 

The worst about this event was that he couldn’t go with Tony as his date. Everything would’ve been better if Tony would be ready to openly admit that they were dating. That public acknowledgement could’ve been the source of Steve’s courage, his badge of honour, his shield. But not only were they going to keep it secret from the public, but they weren’t even disclosing it to their friends yet. At least Steve really, really hoped the ‘yet’ was implied, not that they’d talked about it. The idea of watching people flirting with Tony all night made Steve’s muscles tighten with tension.

 

Just twenty minutes before the cars would arrive to take the team to the banquet hall, Steve steeled himself into a friendly calm and marched right up to Tony’s room. When Tony let him in, he had an excited gleam in his eyes as if he was expecting something.

 

“We can’t play tonight, Stark,” Steve said decisively, but had to cringe internally at how angry he sounded. “Sorry. I just. You know we can’t - somebody might guess.”

 

Momentarily his expression shuttering, Tony nodded. Had he really wanted to play that much? The thought put some of Steve’s worries at rest, and he breathed a bit easier.

 

“What’s with the last names suddenly?” Tony asked neutrally.

 

Too neutrally. Steve grimaced.

 

“Sorry. Tony. That came out wrong.” He shrugged. “I just thought that if the whole team was there, especially Natasha, we shouldn’t…” Just don’t tell him you want to put a tattoo with your name on his forehead so that everybody would know to back off. “I really did want to play, too, but this is just not the event for this.”

 

Slowly, as if thinking about it, Tony nodded, but when he he spoke, his voice sounded slightly dull. “Of course, I understand.”

 

“But the next time we go somewhere with less acquaintances...” Steve tried explaining placatingly. “We’ll definitely give the plug a second try, right?”

 

Tony grinned back, but the lightness didn’t quite reach his eyes. Well, Steve just had to make sure that Tony had a good time otherwise.

 

“Come here,” Steve said gruffly.

 

It was embarrassing, but if he couldn’t play or show to the world who Tony belonged to, he would at least make sure that they both knew and remembered.

 

Frowning, Tony stepped closer. “I thought we were not going to play?”

 

“We aren’t. Give me your wrist.”

 

When Tony reached out his arm, Steve took a piece of thin red string, pulled Tony’s cuff up and deftly wrapped it several times around the proffered wrist. He tied it off in a knot similar to the flower he’d used such a long time ago. The main difference was that the whole production was thinner and less visible.

 

“There,” Steve said, stroking once over the wrist and pulled Tony’s cuff over it. “It should be unnoticeable, but I hope it’ll help you remember who you belong to.”

 

Standing motionless, Tony nodded. Steve inhaled sharply.

 

“That okay?”

 

Tony nodded, looking down somewhere on Steve’s chest.

 

“Colour?”

 

“Green.”

 

The reply was pretty much instantaneous, but for some reason it didn’t feel comforting. Steve frowned. “You’re not subspacing, are you?”

 

Tony startled, but when his gaze snapped back to Steve’s, it was decisive and clear.

 

“No, it’s fine,” he said. “It’s just…” For a moment he just stood there as if in indecision, but then he put his hand into his trouser pocket and pulled out a piece-

 

Steve stared. “Is that…?”

 

“Yes. I kept it.” Tony shrugged uncomfortably.

 

Steve stared at a piece of thin rope with a flower on one end and the short, cleanly cut ends dangling from it. The ends were just long enough to reach around a man’s wrist. Steve didn’t need to ask where it had come from.

 

“O-kay?” he almost whispered, heart fluttering. It couldn’t possibly mean what Steve wanted it to mean. But Tony wasn’t even keeping it in his drawer, it was in his pants pocket. Tonight. Why was Tony carrying that piece of rope around, even with the flower still in its knot? Clearly there was a perfectly logical answer to that. “Why?” he asked, feeling dumb.

 

Tony smiled rather sheepishly. “I liked the idea of belonging to someone. And quite frankly, you subspaced me that time rather more thoroughly than I expected, so it took me a while to take it off and it’s been a somewhat good memory for me.” He shrugged as if to say ‘what can you do?’ “Stupid, I know.”

 

But to Steve it didn’t feel stupid at all. He took a step closer, grabbed Tony’s head and smashed their lips together.

 

*

 

Steve was so, so fucked. Tony had kept the knot flower. Would he keep the second one? Maybe he should have ordered Tony to keep it, but on the other hand, that wouldn’t be the same. Going by what was happening right before his eyes at that precise moment, Tony keeping anything of Steve’s out of sentiment, seemed unlikely.

 

_ I hope it’ll help you remember who you belong to. _

 

Ha. What a joke.

 

The whole charity event was one unmitigated disaster (for Steve) and he wished he could set fire to the ugly podium up front (this thought was not supposed to be funny or make Steve smile, but God knew nothing else would).

 

“Is everything alright?”

 

Steve startled, but didn’t turn to look at Natasha who’d suddenly appeared at his elbow.

 

“Yes,” he snapped, then grimaced. “Sorry. I'm not... You know I don’t do party crowds well.” His eyes trailed after Tony who was happily twirling someone in an elegant blue dress around the dance floor. Was his hand supposed to be that low on her back? Steve should have tied a fat scratchy hemp rope around his wrist instead of the thin ribbon he’d used.

 

“And you're being obvious about it,” Natasha noted.

 

Both wrists.

 

It took Steve a second to get sense of what Natasha was talking about. “Yeah. Sorry.”

 

Hemp all over his crotch really, he wouldn’t be dancing like this then.

 

He made an effort to turn to look at Natasha. She wasn’t smiling, but to anyone who really knew her, the amusement was obvious all over her subtle face.

 

“Well, whatever you are planning on doing,” she said, “you can step it up, he's more than ready.”

 

“What?” She couldn’t mean Tony, could she?

 

Before he could ask, she patted his forearm and disappeared to do whatever the Black Widows did when they weren’t being cryptic all over the place. Was she hinting that Tony was ready for another date? Or ready for sex - maybe she thought they hadn't done it yet? Step up the game? But what if he escalated much too quickly and ran out of ideas? What if Tony got bored? How long would Tony put up with that? A spike of anxiety surged up and his eyes found Tony again. Look at him, just flitting around, flirting with everyone, not a care in the world. Maybe next time he should fit him with a nipple clamp with a chain to a bracelet under his clothes? Or even two nipple clamps.

 

There was some floozy on Tony’s arm now. She leaned up to his ear, whispered something and Tony threw his head back, laughing.

 

The glass shattered in Steve’s hand and several people rushed to his aid. Embarrassed, Steve accepted a tissue from a well-meaning gentleman and apologizing, fled the room.

 

In the restroom, he splashed some water on his face. He was afraid he wouldn't be able to keep watching Tony without doing something monumentally stupid and he was clearly very much incapable of not watching him. Steve decided to go. 

 

Irrationally, Steve wished he’d just shoved a big fat plug into Tony’s ass even if it didn’t vibrate and to top it off, put a steel cock cage on him. Tony would know to stay in his good graces then.

 

_ We’re supposed to be dating for fucks sake _ , Steve thought for the thousandth time, as he flagged down a taxi. Why had Tony consistently been staying away from him all night? It had to be on purpose because usually Tony would come and make sure Steve was alright at least once an hour and it had been almost two with only one casual conversation after Steve made sure they bumped into each other ‘by accident’.

 

Steve stared out of the taxi window and wondered if Tony understood dating the same way he did. It had been an hour ago that Steve started contemplating  dragging Tony out of the banquet hall by the balls, or (more realistically) stomping over and glowering at anyone who dared to smile at Tony.

 

He didn’t like how jealous he was being, but even now Steve wasn’t sure he’d be very nice to Tony if he saw him come back from the party; flushed and happy from all the dancing and flirting. Because sure, Steve could maybe lock up his cock and spank him into submission for half an hour or even a night, but would that stop Tony from falling in love with somebody else? Not everyone he’d meet at these events would be a dull airheaded socialite.

 

He exited the taxi and entered the discreet backdoor to the tower where he kept imagining how he would greet Tony by shoving him against every available surface he saw in his path: the wall in the small lobby, the elevator door, a random piece of furniture on his own floor... He’d press his body against Tony’s, grab his hair and devour his mouth for everybody to see. After tonight though, after seeing how Tony avoided him for the most of the evening, it was clear that such an obviously possessive behaviour wouldn’t be welcome, so Steve decided to work at least some of his frustration off in the gym.

 

“JARVIS, tell me when Tony gets back, will you?” he requested the AI, put on his work-out clothes and headed to gym.

 

Buttplug, he thought viciously as he hoisted the bag up onto a hook. Cock cage. He was going to chain Tony to a gym horse and suspend him from the boxing bag hook. Then he would spank him and fuck him.

 

Time lost all meaning while he pounded at the bag. After some time he realized that he had no idea how long it had been, but he was reluctant to check. So what if Tony returned late? It was good that he was having a good time, wasn't it? Or what if he came soon after Steve? What would that mean? That he was tired? Missing Steve?

 

His nostrils flared in a mental snort.

 

Or maybe it meant that he’d gotten the phone number he’d wanted? The idea of Tony in a tight steel cock cage seemed to be turning into his favourite evil fantasy all of a sudden. Because...

 

Just in case.

 

But Tony wasn’t a cheater, Steve reminded himself. Though frankly, Tony shouldn’t be settling for Steve anyway; he could do so much better.

 

Steve squashed this thought with an extra hard hit at the bag, sending it off the hook and into the wall with a dull thud. He sighed resignedly and looked around. Did he bring a- No, he didn’t bring a water bottle nor a towel, so he pulled off his shirt and used it to dry the sweat dripping into his eyes. Thankfully, there was a freezer with water bottles in the corner, so he got one and downed half of it in a series of large gulps.

 

“Captain Rogers, Sir has just entered the elevator.”

 

For a split second, Steve stilled. Then his fists clenched, unclenched. He was calm now, Steve told himself. He would just go and see if Tony was alright; if he was sober enough to navigate his own way to bed - that’s all this was. Purposefully, he strode towards the exit.

 

“Which floor?”

 

Steve wondered if Tony might be up for a game but rejected the idea immediately. Steve probably wasn’t in the right head-space and this wasn’t about that anyway. He wouldn’t do anything; he just needed to see Tony, see if he was alright. It didn’t really matter if he was still wearing the ribbon or not. Or maybe Steve could edge Tony for a bit, just in case? Make sure he knew who his boyfr- who his dom was...

 

By the time he got to Tony’s door, however, he was newly filled with unsavoury images of what Tony could’ve been up to in the past - he glanced at the clock on the elevator’s display - two hours.

 

It took Tony a minute to open.

 

Steve couldn’t help but let his eyes roam all over Tony’s form. He told himself that it wasn’t to check for lipstick stains or anything ridiculous like that, but he was gratified to see that there was nothing he could detect with a naked eye. He was still in the suit, with his collar open, and he’s eyes were sliding hungrily over Steve’s exposed chest.

 

Tony was smiling, but when he met Steve’s gaze, his expression froze. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Your wrist,” Steve said in a low tone he barely recognized.

 

His eyes widening, Tony raised his hand and undoing his cuff, bared the red ribbon and the knot just as it was several hours ago. Something in Steve’s chest loosened. He stepped inside, closed the door and moving closer, almost backed Tony against the wall.

 

In a strangely low, gravelly voice, he said, “Good boy. You don’t take off things I put on you, do you?”

 

Tony gulped and shook his head, his gaze transfixed on Steve’s who was most definitely not taking a whiff. There was nothing obvious to smell on Tony but the usual party smells, either. Just sweat and drinks and-

 

Something heady, something sweet and metallic that was pure Tony.

 

Steve wanted it.

 

He lowered his head and staring into Tony’s eyes, growled, “I want to fuck you."

 

To his astonishment, Steve actually saw Tony’s pupils grow larger and feeling thrilled and incredibly relieved, he took the last step separating them. He slipped one hand into Tony’s hair and the other around his waist, kissing him with all his pent up anger and desperation.

 

Instantly, Tony’s mouth opened and he moaned, melting in Steve’s arms. Quickly, Steve backed him up against the bar, snapped Tony’s belt buckle open and one-handed, started pulling his trousers down. As Tony was helping him, in under a minute he was bent over the bar counter with Steve’s clothed crotch pressed to Tony’s naked bottom. Both of them groaning, Steve rubbed himself against him.

 

“Oh, god, yes, Steve. Please. Please, Steve,” Tony babbled which, impossibly, heightened Steve’s arousal even more.

 

Without any artistry he got his dick out and shoved it between the two perfect, plump globes of Tony’s butt.

 

“I knew you’d be perfect. Just perfect like this.” Steve had no control over what was coming out of his mouth any more. “Such a perfect round little bottom.” He rubbed Tony’s cheeks in his hands, still humping the crack lightly, almost teasing. He was already panting a bit at how enthusiastically Tony was pushing back against him.

 

“Shit, Steve, just put it in,” Tony went on, “I want it, Steve, please. Or touch me, or… Can you- can just-damn you Steve-”

 

Tony tried to grab his own cock but Steve caught his wrist and shoved it on the top of the bar counter.

 

“Hold it there. The other one too. You will only touch yourself when I say so. Understood?”

 

“Oh god, yes!” Tony exclaimed, but very soon humping the air got to him and his moans turned into groans of frustration, and Steve couldn’t help but moan in pleasure at the noise.

 

Steve reached to caress Tony’s cock lightly and with a loud moan Tony bucked. Steve repeated the action several times with random number of thrusts in between until Tony started cursing and whimpering trying to touch himself again. Steve pulled his arms behind his back and pressed his torso harder onto the counter.

 

“You gonna behave or do I need to tie you down?” he growled.

 

“Fuck! Shit, Steve. Please,” Tony was panting, but he was only struggling lightly, as if knowing that it was fruitless, but incapable of keeping still. “Please, could you- could you... Fuck. Please, just fuck me- shit-”

 

“No,” Steve said shortly and Tony whined, shuddering. “Now are you going to hold your hands there or do I need to tie you up?”

 

There was a brief shuddering sigh and Tony slumped, his forehead on the wood.

 

“I can hold onto the edge of the counter?”

 

Tony sounded eager but strangely plainative, so unlike how he usually was that Steve felt like gathering Tony into his arms and just kissing and cuddling through the night. That would have to come later though.

 

“Fine,” he gave in, trying to still fake the hard edge to his tone. “But don’t move them or I’ll stop and leave you hard and aching to just jerk off alone in my room. Understand?”

 

Tony moaned.

 

“Understand?” Steve barked.

 

“Yes. Yes, I understand,” Tony said breathlessly and when Steve released his wrists, he obediently brought them in front of him to grip the edge of the counter, leaned his temple down on the counter and closed his eyes.

 

Steve’s breath caught and he thought his heart would burst out of his ribcage as it swelled in tenderness. His hand was half-way to Tony’s hair when he pulled it back. Better not to break the mood. Instead, he slapped Tony’s thighs from both sides and ordered, “Keep  them  closed.”

 

When Tony brought his thighs together, Steve adjusted his own height to comfortably thrust between the thighs. It felt really good, so he repeated the motion. Then, holding onto Tony’s hips, Steve kept pumping in and out to the music of moans and groans coming from under him.

 

“Please,” Tony whined. “Please, please touch me. Touch my cock, Steve. I need it, please!”

 

“No, Tony. This is for me.” Grinning, but at the same time horrified at his own audacity, Steve said, “This is for me now. You’ve had your fun already, haven’t you? Flitting around, flirting, taunting me from the distance. All night I had to watch you from afar and now I’m having you. Doing. What I. Want. Got it?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, just like that,” Tony panted eagerly. “Steve. Steve. Fuck me, please. Steve! Shit! Please!”

 

Steve was pumping forcefully now, sometimes hitting Tony’s balls with the tip of his cock and sometimes not, sliding just past his hole and along the perineum. Tony was meeting him thrust for thrust as if hoping to come that way and for all Steve knew, he could.

 

“No,” he said then, knowing that Tony liked to hear that word, even though Steve was not entirely sure what he was, or should be, objecting to.

 

Tony cursed, demanded and pleaded, but Steve was relentless. “Not your pleasure, Tony,” he said, “Mine.”

 

_ Just like you are. _

 

From time to time, he slid his hand over Tony’s weeping cock to tease him, enjoying how Tony’s hips bucked uselessly against air and when Tony’s babbling and moans finally turned into senseless whimpering, he pulled back. Steve made a little room between their bodies and gathering a bit of precum from the both of them, reached out to feel for Tony's hole with his fingers. 

 

Tony cried out a tortured “Yesss!” and widened his stance, pressing needily against Steve’s fingers. “Yes, please,” he begged. “Please, Steve.”

 

Steve pushed the tip of his index finger in and stilled. To make sure, he pushed it in more and yes, it went in easily, far more easily than it should have and for a moment Steve might’ve stopped breathing. The pain, sudden and piercing slashed through his breastbone and jumping back as if burned, he hissed, “Who?”

 

Fingers shaking from rage and… rage, because that’s all it was; he tucked his cock back into his pants and demanded, “Tell me who it was!”

 

Jerkily and obviously shaken, Tony turned around and straightened. His eyes wide, he croaked, “What?” Hesitatingly, he started pulling his pants up. “Sorry, are we playing a different game now?” 

 

_ Playing?  _ A wave of intense humiliation burned as hot rage through Steve’s body and made him feel hot all over. “Is everything a game to you?!” he almost yelled. “Tell me who fucked you!”

 

For a moment, Tony looked stricken but then his face cleared into a mix of pained realization, anger and finally settled on resignation. He buttoned his pants and started fumbling with his belt buckle. When he raised his head again, there was nothing but calm understanding on his face.

 

“Steve,” he started, made an aborted movement towards him, but decided to finish fastening his belt first. “Steve, I... I wouldn’t-” His voice had gone incredibly gentle and persuasive. Steve hated himself a little bit because he knew that he was going to believe every word Tony would utter in that tone. “We're exclusive, Steve. Remember? No one fucked me, I swear! It's just lube, okay? Darling?”

 

Tony dropped his hands from the probably broken belt buckle and stepped closer. Peering imploringly into Steve’s eyes, he put his hand on Steve’s forearm. Steve wanted to pull his arm away, but Tony’s gaze was holding him in place.  _ Lube?  _ Steve wasn’t entirely sure he understood why Tony would be lubed in advance, but he was starting to feel vaguely foolish and when he spoke, his voice was still stiff and unyielding.

 

“Why would you lube up for the gala?”

 

Tony’s facial muscles spasmed strangely as if trying to suppress some emotion he didn’t want Steve to see, but suddenly there was more colour in his cheeks than previously and Tony wasn’t looking at him any more. Was it guilt?

 

“Not the gala specifically… It was more like… Well. It’s a funny story.” Tony forced an awkward laugh. “I… It was a bit late and I thought that maybe I didn’t have to stay much longer and I lubed up in the restroom…” Tony put his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. He opened his mouth but closed it again, his eyes darting to Steve’s and quickly away.

 

The pause wasn’t long, but Steve still wanted to grab Tony by the shoulders and shake all the words out of him.  _ Why? Why would you use lube if you weren’t going to let somebody fuck you _ , Steve wanted to shout at him.  _ Why lube up before leaving? _ He clamped his mouth shut and stared daggers at Tony instead.

 

Tony cleared his throat again and looked down, continuing quietly, in a defeated tone, as if what he had to say was the last thing on earth he’d want to admit. Steve prepared for the worst.

 

“I went to find you, hoping to make this fucking miserable night better, even though I knew you probably wouldn’t want that yet, but…” He cut himself off again, but then, still without looking at Steve, raised his chin and continued with more confidence, almost challengingly, “I’ve been prepping myself just in case any time I thought I’d see you since that first date we had and… And... In short, I just lubed up and went to look where you’d disappeared to, but you were already gone.” He shrugged, and the way he was staring bravely into the distance, as if ready for anything but knowing he was already defeated, made something  twist painfully in Steve’s chest.

 

Tony had been…? Could that be true? Had he really…? Steve blinked and slowly the realization of how much he’d fucked up started overtaking his mind like a dark suffocating blanket. Abruptly, he stepped further back from Tony and looked at the door. "Jesus, Tony. I’m so sorry. Fuck. Tony. I'm sorry."

 

Ashamed of himself and horrified of his actions, he took another step towards escape, but the next moment Tony’s arms were around Steve’s waist and he flinched.

 

“You have to know I would never have done that to you,” Tony said, tucking himself, at first tentatively but then more firmly, into Steve’s rigid body. “You know I wouldn’t. Not to anyone, but especially not you, Steve.”

 

Steve exhaled, and awkwardly, trying to relax, raised his arms to hug Tony back. Yes. Yes, he knew that. He should’ve realized.

 

“Shit, Tony,” he said. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m so, so sorry.” Steve finally got the courage to pull a bit back to look Tony in the eye, but the other man indeed didn’t seem at all angry. How could he not be? “I’m sorry. I’m such and idiot, I-”

 

“Shh… No-no, that’s okay, Steve. That’s okay. I know how people see me, I know that most people think me terminally promiscuous. It’s fine.”

 

Vehemently, Steve shook his head. “It is not fine. I should’ve known better. I’m sorry.”

 

“Maybe. But I understand.”

 

Tony was smiling so tenderly that Steve had to look away, lest he start crying. Or believing things that couldn’t possibly be true. Tony’s gaze was so full of love and understanding that it made Steve want... things. Things that weren’t his. Not yet and maybe never.

 

“Thank you, Tony,” he mumbled into Tony’s hair. He was still embarrassed, but his heart was also filling with love for this wonderful man who still despite Steve's awful blundering was willing to comfort him as he hadn't just completely ruined the night.  “But I don’t think it’s okay at all. And I’m sorry I stormed into your room, manhandled you-”

 

“Did you hear me complaining?”

 

“-and then I accused you of cheating. I-”

 

“It’s fine, Steve. You didn’t hurt me,” Tony said, “I’m okay, yeah?”

 

“Why…” Steve swallowed.  _ Why aren’t you angry? _ “You should just dump me. I’m...” Not good enough? A disaster? A relic with an overblown sense of entitlement? An obsessive bastard?

 

“Of course I’m not dumping you!”

 

Tony sounded playfully indignant. That almost put Steve’s mind at rest, even though the reasons for why Tony would put up with Steve’s crap was still eluding him.

 

“Why would I do that?” Tony continued, meanwhile. He chuckled the cute, slightly embarrassed laugh only the closest people to him ever heard. “It’s probably silly, but I thought it was hot. That you got so much into our game that you actually... And at first I thought... I thought that we were role-playing. Or something...” He shrugged. “You just stormed in, sweaty and half naked, so I assumed... But did you… Were you really...?”

 

_...a jealous ass? _

 

Throat working, Steve just nodded. Filled with remorse over all the uncharitable thoughts he’d had over Tony's actions and fumbling for an explanation that would make sense, Steve felt even more like a total jerk. Tony had been role-playing, not ignoring Steve. Maybe all this night was supposed to be a fun game that Tony had planned and Steve managed to ruin.

 

“I’m sorry I ruined your game,” Steve mumbled. “I’m not good at playing. You deserve a better dom, Tony.” The thought hurt, but that was the truth and Steve was not in the habit of closing his eyes to the truth however painful it was.

 

His throat convulsing and the tears finally falling, Steve started disentangling himself from the embrace, but Tony didn’t let him and for the life of him, Steve couldn’t just use his superior force to make Tony do anything. “Let me go, Tony. I should go. I’m so sorry, but please, let me-”

 

“Sh... No, Steve. It's okay.” Tony plastered himself even more tightly to Steve’s torso and was now speaking in a voice so gentle and soft that with horror Steve suddenly felt a sob fighting its way up his chest. “Of course, I’m not dumping you, even if you had ruined anything, which you haven’t,” Tony was saying. “I like that you care. Fuck, I’m  _ relieved _ to know that you do. Honestly, after you told me that we shouldn’t play tonight, I thought that you didn’t really want me any more, so I stayed away-”

 

“What? Tony!” Shocked, Steve pulled away to look Tony in the eye, but the other man had buried his face into Steve’s neck.

 

“Especially after the disaster that was the last time we played,” Tony continued. “I’m sorry, I was so selfish. It’ll be better next time, I promise-”

 

“Tony, I loved our last time!”

 

Tony stopped talking and lifted his head. “You did?”

 

“Of course I did.”

 

They looked at each other for a minute, frowning, but then Tony’s face cleared up into surprised delight.

 

“Oh. That’s good,” Tony said. “I liked it too. Very much. Okay-”

 

“Did you?” Steve was still frowning, but thankfully, his tears had stopped. “If you liked it, then why did you think it was a disaster?”

 

Tony squirmed in his arms, but now it was Steve’s turn to not let him get away. Tony mumbled something.

 

“What?”

 

“You didn’t stay,” Tony repeated.

 

Steve’s breath caught. “‘Till morning? You wanted me to stay?” Steve was such a fuck up! Why hadn’t he stayed? Damn idiot! “But I thought…” Harshly, Steve wiped away his tears. He had no idea how to explain that he had just been a coward who was afraid to overstay his welcome and hadn’t had the courage to ask. “I’m so sorry, Tony, I should’ve known...” he started for the hundredth time this evening, but Tony cut him off.

 

“It’s fine. Water under the bridge,” Tony was talking quickly, more like himself, now. “And see? That’s probably the real reason I’m not angry with you for not trusting me. I’m just so pathetically relieved that you  care… Also the way you wanted me just now - it was hot. So, everything’s good, right? Just don’t- don’t go.”

 

Feeling numb, Steve nodded and hugged Tony tighter. He tried blinking back the fresh wave of tears and just hoped like hell that Tony had no idea how overwhelmed he was. He wished he could tell Tony to stop talking, but he couldn’t and Tony didn’t.

 

It felt like… It really felt like… Tony sounded as if he… Steve didn’t let himself finish the sentence. It was too early for those kinds of feelings. Clearly it was too early for Tony to feel them, but…

 

_ Oh, God, please... _

 

“You don’t have to apologize, and there’s certainly no need to cry,” Tony went on, wiping off the wet from Steve’s cheek. “Also, the next time you feel jealous, just remember that you have absolutely no reason to, because...” Tony stopped for a moment, then took a deep breath as if bracing himself and continued quietly, “You have no reason to feel jealous because I love you-”

 

For a second Steve couldn’t think. “What?” Despite of just having been hoping- no, more like dreaming to hear that same thing, now that the words were uttered, he was having a hard time believing his ears.

 

“-so any dumb thing you do is already forgiven, Steve. There's not a lot you can do that I wouldn’t forgive you and this? Not even that important that I will remember it next week, okay? We’ll play next time, today we can just cuddle, if you want, yeah?” 

 

Tony was carrying on as if nothing extraordinary had happened at all. Did Steve mishear? But no. He used his perfect recall and yes, Tony really had said... As a friend? Steve must have misunderstood what Tony meant, right? 

 

He didn’t even notice that in his confusion his body had gone rigid and now Tony was tearing out of Steve’s arms and stepping  away. 

 

“Shit.” Tony looked at the door as if ready to bolt. “I'm sorry. Ignore this. The thing. I love you like a friend? That’s it. That's what I meant. Obviously.”

 

He tried to smile but his eyes were jumping all over as if in a panic. Steve tried to catch his gaze, but failing that, he stepped further between Tony and the door.

 

“No-no, don’t go,” Steve said quickly.

 

Tony looked at Steve and his shoulders slumped. “Look, Steve. I… Yeah, fine. You got me there - I didn't mean as a friend but it's okay. I know you don’t feel the same way, so I don’t expect you to say it back or anything.” There was a pause. “I know you care about me a lot and it's enough for now. We can still date, right? It doesn't really change anything-”

 

Steve shut Tony up with a fierce kiss. He couldn’t concentrate on it though and pulled back quicker than he’d normally like.

 

“Since when?” he asked gruffly and then winced internally at how affronted, almost insulted, he sounded. As if Tony’s feelings were a terribly inconvenient discovery, when in fact, it was an amazing revelation.

 

Tony’s smile turned apologetic, but it also came off infinitely sad and, to Steve’s horror, a little bit resigned. “Since... Oh, well since forever I guess. It doesn't matter, I told you. It's-”

 

Thrilled to have Tony’s feelings confirmed and needing to wipe that resigned expression off his face, Steve dived in for another kiss, but again, had to push Tony away quickly. “Forever before the online thing or after?” Steve demanded. He thought he sounded less  angry and more excited now.

 

Tony looked slightly bewildered, but his smile was clearly relieved. “Be fore?” Tony shrugged ruefully. “I've been gone for you since forever, I told you, I-” 

 

“I love you too,” Steve blurted, still somewhat aggressively. Why the hell had Tony been keeping it quiet? As if anyone wouldn’t be overjoyed to know that Tony Stark loved them! And why did Tony look so apologetic and regretful about it? Was it such a burden to love Steve? Why would-

 

Everything was a jumble in his head, all their past conversations, games, everything was crowding at the forefront of his mind and nothing made sense except for the fact that he needed to touch Tony  _ now _ .

 

Again, he surged forward and enveloped the smaller man into a tight hug and kissed him. Tony let himself be pulled in, but for some reason didn’t feel as relaxed as before. Steve let go.

 

“What?”

 

Tony was peering at him carefully, with barely contained hope and fear on his face. “Okay?” he said, not as if he’d heard something wonderfully life-changing, but more like he’d  just witnessed a wild beast suddenly flopping on its back with its belly up and Tony had no idea if he should pat it or run away, “Are you sure? Because… I would love nothing else better if you really did, but… Steve. I meant what I said: you don’t have to say it just because I want to hear it. I know you love me very much, but it’s not really the same as… And there’s nothing wrong with this kind of love, we can make it work. At least for a while, we-”

 

“Shut up, Tony, god, just shut up!” Steve peppered Tony’s face with kisses.

 

Tony smiled back at him, but as much as he looked amused, he was in equal parts confused and not a lot happier than before.

 

“No, Tony, It's real, I promise.” He looked around and frustrated at not finding strong enough words to explain himself, just huffed. “Let’s go sit down.”

 

He guided Tony to the sofa, gathered him close, tenderly pressed his lips to Tony’s mouth, and trying to contain his idiotically dopey smile, said, “I love you, Tony Stark, not as a friend or a brother, but as a life-partner, as a lover and my sub. The  _ in-love _ kind of love, alright?” Steve searched Tony’s eyes for the realisation and acceptance and when he finally got it, saw the joy that had overtaken Tony’s face, the happiness they shared bloomed in his chest.

 

“You lunatic!” Tony said, his lips twitching. “You sounded so angry when you told me you loved me. Why did you sound so angry?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Steve’s barely contained mirth was dying down into a silent bliss. “Dunno. I was angry because I'd put a lot of effort into seducing you and now you're telling me that I didn't really have to. I could have just asked you out last year…”

 

“Some strategist you are,” Tony said, teasing.

 

“Just as much as you are a genius.” Steve pressed his forehead to Tony’s.

 

“Did you really want to ask me out last year?”

 

“Of course I did, sweetheart,” Steve said, combing through Tony’s hair at the back of his neck.

 

“Last year?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Shit.” Tony was quiet for a bit. “Last year when?”

 

Steve sighed, contentedly. “Any time at all. Maybe even the year before that? I don’t know. I don’t know, Tony. But it feels as if I’ve been in love with you forever, too.”

 

Slowly, their bodies relaxed and melted against each other. After a little while, Steve gathered Tony into his lap. They weren’t that different in size, so maybe it wasn’t the most comfortable position with both of them having so many sharp corners and hard edges but at that moment it somehow felt right to Steve.

 

“Do you really love me?” Tony asked, his voice still full of amazement.

 

“Yes.”

 

Tony nodded. “Just checking.”

.

.

.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This is it. I'm not entirely sure, but I might write some smut for this later. Ultimately though, this is it. I’ve finished and this makes me happy and sad, I don't even know... An end of an era for me. Thank you for all the love and support you’ve shown me through your comments and on Discord. It helped me write as fast as I did. Relatively speaking. So thank you :)
> 
> I know that some of you will be disappointed that Steve didn't get to fuck Tony, but for me it was much more important to show that they function well even outside of their sexual relationship, without games, that they finally realize how the other feels about them. For sex, they have all the time in the world and I guess we all can imagine that, right? Or should I write it? One of the reasons I didn't was that I didn't want this story to have 13 chapters and the other that I'm seriously in the mood for some Mean!Steve and the might be a little bit OOC for this story. Or what do you think?
> 
> If you want to ask something about this story feel free to find me on tumblr: http://serinah80.tumblr.com/ :)


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